Sacrifice
by I'm a Muppet of a girl
Summary: Mortmain has made a deal with a demon. In exchange for setting it free, the demon will destroy all Shadowhunters. But it requires a sacrifice...and who else but Tessa Gray? Mortmain steals her from the Institute, leaving a clockwork Tessa in her place. But Will knows something isn't right. He knows he must find the truth...for Tessa's life may depend on it.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello people of earth! I'm-a-Muppet-of-a-girl here with my third fanfic! Whoo! Yeah! Uhh...I never was very good at getting people hyped. Anywho, I hope you like it. Please don't forget to leave a little review to tell me how it is! **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Infernal Devices. I just found out a month ago and I'm still getting over it...sorry I need a moment... Oh and I also don't own William Herondale, which is unfortunate, because he's a hunk! **

**Enjoy! **

Axel Mortmain paced back and forth across the floor of the old mansion, his trembling hands clasped behind his back. It seemed like everything he had worked for, every lie he had told and every crime he had committed, rested on this night. He had worked for so, so long for this. He had taken agonizing measures to prepare himself—he had studied the secret world that existed under humans' noses, painstakingly training himself until he could see what most other humans couldn't—Downworlders, Shadowhunters, and demons.

And now it was finally paying off. Soon he would have everything he'd ever wanted.

He just had to survive this night.

The door to the basement flew open and the warlock Mortmain had hired for this wonderful occasion stood there, looking pale and afraid. "I think I've done it, sir," he whispered, shaking from head to toe. "I've finally done it."

Mortmain took three long strides across the room and seized the warlock by the shoulders, staring into his eyes intently. "You've summoned him?" he demanded, and the warlock nodded fearfully.

Mortmain all but shoved the Downworlder to the ground as he swept past him, down the stairs and into the ornately decorated and appropriately ominous basement of the mansion. Everything was in dark shades of crimson and black, and there were no windows. What better place to hold the ritual?

Mortmain stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the lightly glowing circle drawn in the center of the floor, and electricity shot through his veins. A huge, dark, bulging shape was crouched in the middle of the circle, its rattling breaths filling the room with muggy heat. A mixture of fear and pleasure filled Mortmain at the sight of the beast, and he took several slow steps closer.

He stopped just at the edge of the circle and stared up at the demon, who was hunched over so that its face was hidden beneath a tattered wing. It took him a moment to gather enough courage to clear his throat loudly in an attempt to draw the creature's attention.

The beast shifted slightly and then slowly unfolded itself into a sitting position. Even when it wasn't standing, it towered over Mortmain at about twelve feet tall. It was covered with an array of scales and horns, which protruded at odd angles all over its body. Four black horns arched out of its forehead and when it opened its mouth to take a breath, it revealed row upon row of needle-sharp teeth. Disturbingly human-like fingers were splayed on the ground with thick, serrated talons protruding from the tips. The demon itself was a dull scarlet color, with frightening black eyes.

It took Mortmain several long seconds to find his voice. "You are the demon Cruor?" he said, a nervous tremor gripping his voice.

The demon surveyed Mortmain with a mixture of contempt and hatred. But while it was trapped in its circular cage, it had no choice but to answer Mortmain's questions. "I am," it said in a dark, resonating voice that sent chills down one's spine.

"I have summoned you here to ask a favor of you," Mortmain announced, trying to regain his composure.

Cruor curled its lip. "I do not perform favors for humans."

Mortmain bristled. "I am no ordinary human," he snapped. He closed his eyes briefly to calm himself. "I misspoke before," he said in a lower voice. "I do not seek a favor, but a bargain."

The demon's torn wings tried to unfurl but an unseen force pushed them back again. "I do not make bargains," it snarled.

Mortmain did his best not to flinch underneath Cruor's baleful glare. "You will not want to dismiss this bargain so easily," he cautioned. "You are the demon of bloodshed, are you not?"

The demon did not respond, and Mortmain took his silence as a confirmation.

"My bargain works very much in your favor," he went on. "You were created to kill and to make suffering, and that is what I ask you to do for me."

The demon's depthless black eyes narrowed. "You wish me to kill for you? I have no interest in your petty human squabbles."

"Not just one kill," said Mortmain, pressing the tips of his fingers together. "I wish for you to destroy every last Shadowhunter on this earth. I want you to tear them to shreds. I want you to _make them_ _suffer."_

Mortmain did not miss the sudden increase in the demon's interest. "I have attempted to kill the Shadowhunters countless times before," it growled. "I have never managed to take down more than a few at a time. And it would seem that I am too weighed down with Shadowhunter seals and curses to drag myself up from the depths on my own." Once again, the demon tried to spread its wings, and Mortmain wondered if the holes and tears in them were due to Shadowhunter abuse.

"That is the other end of the bargain," said Mortmain calmly. "If you agree to kill every last Shadowhunter, then I will set you free."

Cruor went very still. "Impossible."

"I have found a way," Mortmain said grimly. "It requires a ritual…"

Cruor's talons clawed at the ground, making huge gashes in the expensive carpet. "I will not put my trust in you," it snarled.

Mortmain remained composed. "We are not trusting one another," he said coolly. "We are making an unbreakable bargain. Both of us must fulfill our ends. I will perform this ritual to set you free, and then you will do as I have asked of you."

The demon's mouth curled upward, and Mortmain was certain that it was a smile. "All right, human," it said in a deathly soft voice. "I will agree to your bargain. Say that you will set me free, and I shall promise to kill your Shadowhunters. It will bind us to the deal we have made."

For one instant, Mortmain hesitated. A doubt surfaced in his mind, the remnants of his ruined conscience clawing its way back to him. He knew this would have disastrous results. The moment the demon was set free, there would be no containing it. It would be obligated to slaughter the Shadowhunters, but why should it stop there? It would go after every last Downworlder, every last human being, and there would be no stopping it.

And then Mortmain's greed and hatred and lust for revenge clouded over his conscience once again, and he found himself smiling. "I swear that I will set you free so that you may complete your side of our bargain, once I am able," he said softly.

Cruor's eyes flashed. "And I swear to destroy every single Shadowhunter that lives and breathes, once you set me free."

A shudder passed through Mortmain, and he knew that their bargain could not be broken.

"It has been done," said Cruor, sounding darkly satisfied. "You are bound to our bargain, human, as am I." It leaned closer, lowering its head so that it was level with Mortmain's. "Tell me how you will set me free."

"It is simple, really," said Mortmain, struggling to keep his calm mask in place. This was the part that gave him both strong regret and intense pleasure. "It is a ritual, one that requires a female sacrifice. The sacrifice must have a heart that is _pure _and _loving."_ He spoke the words with deep disgust. "The opposite of the demon that is to be set free."

"And you have such a sacrifice?"

"Not yet. But I will. She lives with the Shadowhunters—she is a…pet, of sorts. They seem to care quite deeply for her." He sighed wistfully, remembering when he had hoped to take her as his own bride, to use her abilities for his own devices. Until he had come to a realization—what could be more powerful than the dark art of a demon? But if he could not have her…then no one could.

"Fool," the demon hissed. "Choose another. It is useless to pursue one who is under the Shadowhunters' protection. Even if you managed to take her, they would easily take her back."

Mortmain smiled smugly. "I have taken care of that," he said. "They will never know she is gone. She will have a…substitute, to take her place. It will buy us enough time to finish the ritual, and by then, it will be too late to save her."

"It is difficult to deceive Shadowhunters," rumbled Cruor. "But do as you will, human. As long as I am free, the means of my freedom are no concern of mine. Now go and bring her to me!" His voice rose to a roar that shook the house to its foundation. Mortmain scrambled backward and up the stairs, heart leaping in his chest.

But even though his hands still shook from fear and adrenaline, he was smiling. At last, he could sense his victory on the horizon. All he needed was that one last piece of the puzzle.

_You are mine, Tessa Gray. _

* * *

**One chapter down! Please tell me what you think, and let me know if I should go on. Thanks for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks for reading and reviewing!**

Tessa Gray woke with a start.

She stared up at the ceiling and listened to the pounding of her heart. At first she wasn't sure what had woken her—until she heard the loud rumble of thunder from outside. She had never been able to sleep well through storms.

She blinked rapidly, trying to cling to the last lingering wisps of her dream. Or, more accurately, of her nightmare. Tessa was used to dreaming of Mortmain, of what would happen if he were to get his hands on her, but no dream had been quite as vivid as this one.

Mortmain had been conversing with a terrifyingly gruesome beast, speaking as normally as if standing before another human being. Tessa struggled to recall what their conversation had been about, but she could remember nothing besides hearing her name.

She shivered and sat up, unable to bear the thought of trying to go back to sleep, back into the arms of another nightmare. She slid out of bed and pulled her dressing gown around her, pushing her long brown hair back from her face. She left her room, shutting the door quietly. She glanced across the hall to Jem's door, wondering if she should go inside and tell him about the dream. He had always listened so readily when she spoke of her nightmares, even though Tessa knew they couldn't be interesting for him to hear.

But it was not Jem's company that she craved. In fact, the entire Institute seemed to be pressing in around her, despite its huge size, and she turned away from his door and crept silently down the hall.

Lightning lit up the corridor in front of her, and Tessa jumped. She hurried down the stairs toward the front door, glancing over her shoulder to make sure no one had noticed her passing. She doubted anyone would be awake at this hour, but there was no such thing as being too cautious.

She had made it halfway across the entrance hall when an amused voice made her start so badly she yelped.

"Little late for an evening stroll, isn't it?"

She spun around, already glaring. William Herondale leaned casually against a pillar, his arms crossed over his chest, his face cast into shadows. She could just make out the grin on his face through the darkness.

"You startled me!" she exclaimed.

"Serves you right for sneaking out." He shrugged off of the pillar and strolled closer to her, clasping his hands behind his back.

"I wasn't sneaking out," she argued, although her face burned a little with the lie.

"You were merely coming down to admire the craftsmanship of the front door?" Will suggested.

Tessa narrowed her eyes at him. "What were _you _doing here?" she challenged, doing her best to shift the attention off of herself.

"The same as you, of course," he replied. He turned to squint at the front door, propping his fist underneath his chin. "I daresay it's the finest door I have ever laid eyes on."

"Be serious, Will."

"Fine." He dropped his hand and looked at her. "You know it's dangerous to leave the Institute alone, especially with Mortmain hunting you down."

She found she could not quite meet his eyes. "Sometimes I feel like I have to leave," she admitted. "It feels like if I stay in here a moment longer, I'll suffocate."

Tessa flitted a quick look at him, and was surprised to see a thoughtful expression on his face rather than amusement or scorn.

"I know the feeling," he murmured. "Particularly when Sophie sneaks into my room late at night and tries to smother me with my own pillow."

Her brief hope that he was actually going to take a conversation seriously for once faded, and she glared at him again.

He raised his hands into the air in defeat, and said, "I really do know how you feel, Tessa. Sometimes the walls seem to come down around you."

She wasn't quite sure if he was joking or not this time, so she just looked away.

"And now," he declared, "it is time for young shape-shifters to go back to bed."

"What about knowing the feeling of the walls pressing down on you?" she protested. "I thought you understood!"

"I do," he said, nodding wisely. "I hope I didn't deceive you into thinking I would allow you to leave the Institute by yourself."

"You can hardly make me stay," she pointed out.

"Ah, that's where you're wrong," he said. "I can tie your wrists and ankles to the bedposts to make sure you stay where you're supposed to be. In fact, I could also lie down on top of you, just to make extra sure you don't—"

"Will!" Tessa was glad for the darkness that covered her blush. She did her best to glare at him through her embarrassment.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, which looked as if it were part of the shadows that surrounded them. "All right, if you're going to be so stubborn about leaving, at least let me escort you."

She stared at him. "Really?"

He smiled mockingly back and offered his arm with a flourish. "Really."

Tessa considered ignoring it, but if it were the only way he would allow her out to get some fresh air… She accepted his arm, and he grinned at her.

Will led her up to the front doors, quietly opening them and slipping out into the cool, stormy night. The rain had not begun yet, but a thick covering of clouds blotted out the sky. Crackling electricity filled the air, making the hairs on the back of Tessa's neck stand on end. Loud thunder boomed overhead, and Tessa flinched against Will. Face hot, she quickly straightened up, averting her eyes from his smirk.

"Lovely night for a stroll," he said sarcastically.

He led her out through the Institute gates. Tessa was a little surprised by the silence he kept up as they walked through the dark, mostly deserted streets of London, without a single wry remark to be heard.

She tried to fill the silence between them with talk. "What were you doing awake, really?" she said. She took his clothing in for the first time, noticing that he was fully dressed. "William Herondale!" she exclaimed. "You were planning on sneaking out, weren't you?"

"Theresa Gray!" He matched her scandalized tone. "I do believe you're being hypocritical. You had every intention of sneaking out as well."

She knew he was right, but she wasn't going to admit it. "Where were you going?" she asked curiously. She smiled a little and said, "Not another date with Six-Fingered Nigel? I really think you should give him a little space, Will, you're making the poor man uncomfortable."

Will scowled at her. "Where I was going is my business."

Tessa searched his face, but she could see that he didn't plan on telling her anything. He kept his expression smooth, as if he could sense her gaze, so she sighed and turned to look back at the road ahead of them.

Will turned them both down a small street, and Tessa realized that he was walking as if he knew exactly where they were going.

"Do you have a destination in mind?" she asked him, jumping nervously as a cat darted out of the shadows by her feet.

Will didn't answer, but when she glanced at him, she could see that he was smiling ever so slightly.

They left the road and Tessa was startled to see the river rushing by their feet. Will pulled her to the right, and they walked alongside the water for a while until a small wooden bridge came into view, with a lovely, intricate railing.

"No one ever comes to this sad little bridge," Will told her, leading her up onto it. He leaned his hands against the railing and stared into the river below them. His hair hid his eyes in shadow, so that she could not read the expression in them. "It's always a good place to come and be alone."

Tessa's heart jumped a little. Will wanted to be alone with her? She turned and rested her elbows on the railing beside him, hoping he couldn't tell what she was thinking, as he so often managed to do.

"Tessa." Will's voice was soft. Tessa glanced up at him as a raindrop plopped onto the back of her hand.

He hesitated, and Tessa prompted, "Yes, Will?"

He raised his head and looked off into the distance. Rain started falling in a slow drizzle, catching in sparkling drops in his hair and eyelashes. His beauty took Tessa's breath away, even though he looked so far away at the moment.

"I brought you here because I…I wanted to tell you something."

It was odd seeing him struggle with his words, something that normally came so naturally to him. She reached out and gently touched his arm, feeling him stiffen as she did so. She withdrew her hand. "You can tell me anything," she said softly.

His hands were fists on the railing, his muscles tense, and Tessa began to worry about what he was planning on telling her. He had been laughing and joking only a few minutes earlier; what could be so terrible that it made him look so serious?

Suddenly Will turned to her, so abruptly she was startled. He took her by the shoulders, searching her eyes desperately with his own.

She wasn't quite sure what to say. "Will—?"

"Tessa," he whispered, interrupting whatever she had been about to ask him—she wasn't sure what she had meant to say, herself. All words died on her tongue as he looked at her with eyes so intense it took her breath away. She found herself leaning unconsciously toward him, and realized he must have been leaning toward her as well, for suddenly they had only a few inches of space separating them from one another. Their noses nearly touched. If she leaned just a little closer…

"Jem loves you."

Tessa felt the fiery longing in her beginning to fade. She started to draw away, feeling disappointed. Will had brought her all this way to tell her that someone else loved her? She barely registered the meaning of his words, what they meant.

Will tightened his grip on her shoulders, drawing her back to him. "Let me finish," he said fiercely. "Jem loves you, and you mean the world to him. That's why I shouldn't be here with you. That's why I shouldn't be saying this." He took a deep breath, his fathomless blue eyes closing as if he couldn't bear to meet her eye.

"Will?" she whispered, a tremor in his voice. "What are you saying?" A voice in the back of her head was starting to rise, urgently telling her, _Did you hear what he said? Jem loves you! _But she shoved the voice away, desperate to cling to this moment in the here and now.

He opened his eyes, and their gazes locked again. Then Will closed the distance between them and kissed her.

The fire that had simmered deep inside Tessa blazed upward, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, drawing him closer, feeling a blissful sense of joy, ignoring the voice that kept persisting in her head that was trying to remind her of what he had just told her. She felt his hand reach up and touch her cheek gently, as if he were afraid she would shatter if he were too rough with her.

He pulled away for a single heartbeat and whispered her name. "Tess…"

She kissed him again, more fiercely this time, and he murmured against her mouth. "Tessa, I think I l—"

His words cut off abruptly, and his lips were gone from Tessa's. She opened her eyes, staring in bewilderment at the space where Will had been standing a moment before. Now there was just empty space in front of her.

Then she heard the splash.

Tessa spun around and leaned over the bridge as far as she dared, heart hammering as she searched the water with her eyes. Had Will…_fallen into the river? _

His head broke the surface, his mouth open in a gasp for air. He shook his head sharply to get his sopping water out of his eyes and blinked up at her.

Tessa was looking down at him, unsure whether she should be concerned or burst out laughing, when his eyes shifted past her and widened in horror.

Tessa turned, too late. She started to scream when she saw the automaton looming over her, face devoid of emotion. It moved behind her with startling speed, and a hand clamped over her mouth, cutting off her cry, another arm snaking around her from behind, pulling her hard against a broad metal chest.

Instinctively, she tried to bite the hand over her mouth, but her teeth scraped against metal. The automaton started walking with swift, jerky steps, ignoring the kicks she sent at its shins. She tried to get another glimpse of the river, desperate to see if Will was coming, to see if he was all right.

The river came into view as the automaton carried her off the bridge. She was in time to see Will starting to drag himself out of the river, his mouth shouting her name, though she couldn't hear it over a crash of thunder. A shadow loomed through the rain above him. Tessa screamed from behind the automaton's hand, but it was no use.

The second clockwork creature slammed a metal fist into the back of Will's head. Will jerked forward and collapsed into the mud of the bank, unmoving.

With a surge of strength, Tessa wrenched away from the hands that held her, shoving the automaton so that it stumbled backward. She raced down the river toward Will, desperate to reach him. The clockwork thing that had hit him looked up at her approach, and what she saw made Tessa stop dead and stare in horror.

The clockwork automaton that had knocked out Will was…_Tessa._

Long brown hair dripping with rain and gray dress soaked through, the clockwork girl looked at Tessa and smiled. It was a chillingly real smile, full of menace and something ominously _human. _

In a rush of anger and despair, Tessa understood. Mortmain had created a clockwork clone to take her place. Who would notice Tessa's absence if her face was on this creature? Who would try to find her now?

She felt something hard crash into the back of her head, and she lurched forward into the mud, her vision blackening. The last thing she saw was Will's beautiful, still face, rain falling as if the heavens were crying for what had happened that night.


	3. Chapter 3

Will had the strangest dream. He was floating in a great expanse of water, cold rain stinging his cheeks. He could hear things whispering to him, words he couldn't quite make out, in voices that he thought should be familiar to him but weren't. It was almost peaceful, he thought, as he bobbed through the water. He hadn't had a dream like this in a long, long time.

Then the peace was shattered at a high scream from somewhere above him, cut off abruptly. He tried to turn in the water, searching for the source of the sound in alarm. Suddenly the calm waters turned into angry whirlpools, waves buffeting him back and forth, pushing his head under the water. He glimpsed the shore and clawed desperately toward it, trying to drag himself out.

A metal hand grabbed him by the hair, lifting his head painfully up until he was looking into gray eyes that were familiar and yet not—he heard himself gasp something but the storm and the waves drowned him out.

He found himself slipping back into the water, flailing uselessly, and suddenly he was in the middle of an ocean, trapped beneath the water, the current dragging him down, down, down…

Will opened his eyes, moaning at the sharp pain in his head. He blinked against the bright sunlight pouring into the room, disoriented, unable to remember where he was. He certainly wasn't lying in his own bed.

He tried to sit up, only to flop back against the pillows as his head spun sickeningly.

"You're finally awake, I see."

The amused yet strained voice of his _parabatai _made Will turn his head. James Carstairs was seated at his bedside, hands resting lightly on his cane. He had deep shadows under his eyes and he looked as if he hadn't slept for a while, though he still wore a warm smile.

"Jem?" Will moaned again, putting a hand up to his forehead. "I think I'm dying."

Jem snorted, much to Will's indignation. "You aren't dying."

"I must be," he said dramatically, "for it feels as if someone has stuck a knife straight through my skull."

"Don't be melodramatic, Will."

"Do me a favor and put me out of my misery."

Jem sighed in exasperation. "It's good to see your sense of humor hasn't failed you," he muttered. He leaned toward Will, his slight annoyance giving way to concern. "How are you feeling, Will, really?"

"I'm fine. What happened?" Will sat up, more carefully this time, so that his head only gave a dull throb but allowed him to maintain an upright position. He rubbed his temples, wincing. "Why am I in the infirmary?"

"We were hoping you could tell us," said Jem darkly. "Henry found you unconscious, half submerged in the river." He looked at Will sternly. "Were you drinking again?"

Will pressed a hand to his chest. "James! Don't you think I would have a little more dignity than drinking myself to delirium and then stumbling into the river?"

"It pains me to say that I don't," Jem sighed. "Is that really all that happened, Will? You drank too much?" He sounded almost hopeful.

Will looked away, staring at the wall as his aching head struggled to wrap itself around what had happened last night. His memories were a muddle, mixing with the dream he'd had, full of water and screams and piercing gray eyes.

He shook his head impatiently, causing it to throb even more. "I don't know what happened, Jem," he said honestly. "I know I wasn't drinking, though."

Jem's mouth thinned into a serious line. "Was it Mortmain?"

"I—" Will broke off with an intake of breath as a memory flew out of nowhere. He had just recalled leaving the Institute last night; he hadn't been alone. On his arm had been Tessa.

Tessa!

Will swung his legs over the side of the bed, lurching to his feet. He swayed and staggered, the room spinning around him. Jem stood and caught his elbow to steady him, a look of alarm in his eyes.

"Where's Tessa?" said Will urgently. "Have you seen her today? Is she safe?"

He was remembering the scream from his dream, wondering if perhaps his mind had mixed reality with unreality. He was almost certain that the cry had been Tessa's. He had brought her out of the Institute last night. If anything happened to her…

Jem's eyes widened. "Tessa? What are you talking about, Will? Of course she's safe!"

"Have you seen her this morning?"

"No…" said Jem, his silver eyes confused. "Sophie is in her room now helping her get ready."

Will stumbled away from his friend, bursting through the infirmary door and walking as quickly as his dizzy head would allow him. Jem hurried after him, protesting that Will needed rest, but there was only one person that was of any concern to Will at the moment, and it was not himself.

"Will, won't you tell me what's going on?" Jem demanded, sounding frustrated. "What's the matter with Tessa? Does she have something to do with last night?"

"She was with me," said Will over his shoulder, and he heard his _parabatai's _sharp intake of breath. "I don't remember much about what happened, but I'm certain of that."

"She wasn't with you by the river," Jem said, sounding worried. "No one was."

At this, Will quickened his pace, his heart beginning to pound in his chest. An image was stuck in his mind, one of he and Jem knocking on Tessa's door, only to find no answer, going inside to see that her room was deserted. But Sophie would have told someone by now that Tessa was missing, wouldn't she?

Will was running by the time he turned down the corridor to Tessa's room, ferociously pushing his pounding headache and accompanying dizziness away. Jem had fallen behind, still calling after him, but Will did not wait for him.

He strode up to Tessa's door and raised his fist to knock, a little surprised to find his hand shaking. He hesitated, staring at the door, trying to brace himself for what he might find inside.

"Will!" Jem shouted, beginning to sound angry. "You're not well! You can't run about the Institute like this—"

Will pounded on the door, only to lunge for the doorknob without waiting for an answer. He didn't care if he got slapped for barging into Tessa's room unannounced; he would gladly take the slap over losing her, and being the one to blame for it.

Whatever he had been expecting to find, it wasn't this.

Sophie lay on the floor, blood running down her face from a gash on her hairline, her face white and her eyes closed.

And standing over her was Tessa, looking down at the wounded maid with a blank, emotionless expression on her face, her hands covered in blood.

* * *

_Don't forget to leave your thoughts in that lovely little box below! Thanks!_


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thanks sooo much for reading and reviewing! It warms the cockles of my wee little heart! **

Will stood frozen in the doorway, unable to tear his eyes away from the dreadful scene. As if sensing his presence, Tessa looked up, and her eyes met his.

Will felt as if he was being bound by chains and trapped into stillness as their gazes locked together. Tessa's gray eyes, the eyes that had offered him so much peace and torment alike, the eyes that he had grown to love, that held more soul and life than any eyes he had ever seen before…they were now cold, stony, and lifeless. They were not _his _Tessa's eyes.

For only a heartbeat's time, her cold eyes bored into his, stealing his breath away, and then she blinked and the horrid blankness was replaced with shock and fear.

Jem stumbled into the room behind Will at that moment, took in the scene, and swore loudly. He pushed past Will, who was still paralyzed by the door, and knelt down beside Sophie, gently taking her hand. Will continued to look at Tessa, who was staring down at Sophie with a stricken expression, clutching her bloody hands to her chest.

"She's still alive!" Jem shouted, springing to his feet. He seemed to see Tessa for the first time, and hurried to her side, grabbing her arms and looking her frantically up and down. "Tessa, are you all right? Are you hurt?"

Tessa shook her head mutely, eyes wide with fear.

"What happened?"

"It was horrible," Tessa sobbed. "Horrible." She hid her face in Jem's shoulder, and he put his arms around her, shooting Will a tormented look.

"Get help," ordered Jem. "Find Charlotte, Gideon, anyone who can help. Tell them Sophie's injured."

But Will wasn't sure he could make his feet move. His eyes flickered between Sophie and Tessa as his mind struggled to understand what he was seeing, what had happened.

"Go, Will!" said Jem sharply, snapping Will out of his trance. He moved one step back, then another, finally spinning around and running back down the hall, not really seeing where he was going, in search of someone who could help. The only thing he could see were Tessa's cold, empty eyes.

_o-O-o_

Tessa was floating through blissful black space. Her worries had vanished, or perhaps she had just forgotten what they were. There was only quiet here, only peace, and she would have liked to stay there forever.

But eventually pain started to puncture her beautiful word of obliviousness, pain in her head and pain in her thoughts. The black world slipped away from her and she felt cold, rough stone beneath her, a chilly draft blowing onto her from somewhere.

She opened her eyes, and even that small movement sent stabbing pain through her skull. She stared at the gray stone wall in front of her, waiting for her vision to steady itself.

Tessa lifted her head as much as the pain would allow her and took in her surroundings.

She was lying on her side in a small, square stone room. A glassless barred window sat high on the wall behind her, and there were rusted, ominous looking chains attached to the wall just below the window. She eased herself into a sitting position, catching her breath at the pain it caused her head.

A black door faced her, covered in locks and bolts. Tessa forced herself to crawl toward it, gasping at her headache, and reached up with shaking hands to grasp the door handle. She turned it weakly and it came as no big surprise that the door was locked tight.

She clung to the handle and rested her forehead against its cool surface, breathing deeply and struggling not to panic.

She had no idea where she was, or how she'd gotten there. Her thoughts were fuzzy and scattered, and it was difficult to think around the pain in her head, but she would have to try. She squeezed her eyes shut tight, trying to call up the last thing she remembered before coming here.

Tessa recalled a flash of something, a snippet of a memory: rain rippling the surface of a river, a figure splashing in the water, thunder booming overhead, hands ensnaring her from behind.

She gripped the sides of her head with her hands, frustration overtaking her. Why couldn't she remember?

She knew for certain that she was nowhere in the Institute. If she were, she would be tucked in a nice, warm bed in the infirmary, not locked in a filthy cell. Charlotte would never do such a barbaric thing.

Tessa gingerly touched the back of her head, feeling her hair stiff with dried blood. Fear started to work its way through her, and she slammed her palm against the door, calling desperately, "Hello? Is anyone out there? Please!"

There was no reply. Tessa pounded on the door for a few more moments, her voice cracking with how loud she shouted, but no one answered her pleas.

She crawled backward away from the door, huddling in a corner and hugging her knees to her chest. She stared numbly at the patch of gray light on the floor thrown from the window as despair fell over her like a black curtain.

_o-O-o_

Will stood to the side as Henry, Charlotte, Cyril, and Gideon fussed over Sophie, who had been moved from Tessa's room to the infirmary and who was lying quite still, but alive, in one of the beds. Gideon sat in a chair at her bedside, holding her hand with fear written all over his face. Charlotte dabbed at Sophie's face with a damp washcloth, murmuring to Henry to summon a Silent Brother.

Jem stood near Sophie's bed, close to Tessa, looking at the maid with worry in his eyes. Will was not watching his _parabatai, _however, or even Sophie, but Tessa. There was something not quite right about her.

She stood close to Jem as if needing the shelter of his body to protect her, looking at Sophie with huge eyes. She no longer wore the empty expression as when she'd looked at Will, but there was something still off about her, something not…Tessa.

She suddenly looked over at him, as if sensing his gaze, and offered him a small smile. It was not the tentative, gentle smile she might have offered him in a situation like this. There was something sly about it, almost challenging, but in a moment it had gone from her lips before he could decide if it had ever been there or not.

"Tessa, dear," said Charlotte, going over to the girl and taking her hands in her own. "You must tell us what happened."

Tessa bit her lip and avoided Charlotte's eyes. Jem put a comforting hand on her shoulder, a gesture that might have made Will burn with jealousy at any other time, but now he felt nothing but bewilderment.

"Come, Tessa," said Jem softly. "We must know, so that we can help Sophie, and you."

"Was it Mortmain?" asked Charlotte in a low voice.

Something happened then in Tessa. It was hardly noticeable; one would not have seen it at all had he not been watching her as closely as Will was. He did not miss the stiffening of her body, the flatness that came to her gray eyes, the way her head tilted as if perking up at the sound of his name.

How strange.

"No," said Tessa, perhaps a little too quickly. "She fell. She was going to fetch a hairbrush for me, and her foot caught on something and she struck her head on the bedpost."

Charlotte let out a breath. "That's better than an invasion, I suppose," she said wearily. She took on a puzzled expression. "Sophie isn't one to be clumsy. That doesn't sound like her at all."

"You're right, Charlotte," Will said, striding over to join them. Tessa looked over at him with something like alarm. "That doesn't sound like Sophie one bit." He looked pointedly at Tessa.

"Will," Jem said sharply. "You sound almost as if you're accusing Tessa of something."

Will kept his eyes on Tessa as he spoke. "Why would I do something like that?"

Tessa held his gaze for a few moments, the ghost of the iciness from before flitting in her eyes before she looked back at Charlotte.

"That's what happened," she said firmly.

Charlotte gave Will a stern look before saying, "I believe you completely, Tessa."

"We'll see the truth when she wakes up, won't we?" Will responded, folding his arms over his chest.

"There's no other truth to see, Will," Jem said, sounding a bit angry.

Will nodded slowly, staring holes into the side of Tessa's face even as she refused to look at him. "Of course."

"I'm sorry you had to see that, Tessa," Jem said quietly, his voice tender as he addressed her. "You shouldn't have had to handle that alone."

"It was frightening," Tessa admitted. "I'm just glad she's all right."

So why didn't Will believe her when she said that?

"May I speak with you for a moment, Tessa?" he said coolly.

Without looking at him, she said, "I'm exhausted with all that's happened this morning, and I didn't get much sleep last night, either. I think I'll go to my room."

"Of course, Tessa," Jem said, shooting Will a warning glance when he opened his mouth to protest. "Go and rest."

Will watched her leave the room swiftly, wondering if he should go after her and demand that she talk to him. However, something held him back. He couldn't help noticing that even her walk seemed different than usual. It occurred to him with a small flush of embarrassment that no one else would notice the miniscule differences in her other than him, for no one else watched her as closely as he did.

Perhaps her odd behavior was nothing more than shock from the accident with Sophie that morning.

But Will could not get the image out of his head of her standing over Sophie with uncaring eyes, and he found that he did not believe her story of Sophie falling, not at all.

If Sophie hadn't fallen, how had she been injured so badly?

_o-O-o_

The door to the cell creaked open and Tessa lifted her head, squinting against the sudden brightness of witchlight.

The silhouette of a person stood in the doorway, the light from the object in his hand illuminating all the dank corners of the cell. The figure stepped into the room, and as he drew closer his features were thrown into definition.

Tessa's eyes widened and her heart seized up with fear.

"You know, I have dreamed of seeing you like this many times, Tessa dear," he purred, crouching down so that his head was level with hers. "Beaten, defeated by my hand, cowering at my feet." He brushed a strand of her hair out of her face, and she jerked away from him. "As unwilling as ever, I see. No matter. Soon, you will be nothing but a sad memory—the memory of a girl who didn't even know what she was."

Curling his lips in an unsettling smile, Mortmain stood so that he towered over her, looking down on her with a mixture of disdain and anticipation. "Come, Tessa," he said. "There is someone I would very much like you to meet."


	5. Chapter 5

The moment Mortmain pulled Tessa out of her cell, a small guard of automatons surrounded them. They were much less intricate than some of the other creatures she had seen that Mortmain had created, with only small indentations in their blank faces for eyes and jerky, unnatural movements. Nevertheless, she knew they were programmed to fight, and she wouldn't get far if she attempted to run.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked, trying to sound bold, but her voice quaked.

"I have a special use for you, my dear," Mortmain replied, leering unpleasantly at her.

She tried unsuccessfully to jerk her arm from his painful grip. "I will _not _marry you."

"You have made that perfectly clear in the past," he said calmly. "No, I have a much more…_interesting _use for you now."

A new kind of fear seeped into Tessa as she wondered what he could possibly mean by those words.

They walked down a long, dark hallway dotted with torches. Doors lined the walls, though they all appeared to be locked and bolted. Tessa wondered with a shiver if other prisoners were being held behind those doors. She risked a look at Mortmain, who walked beside her with an infuriatingly smug expression on his face. She noticed that what she had mistaken for witchlight in his hand was merely a small lantern whose flames had somehow been altered to resemble the appearance of the Shadowhunter light.

_Is this what he's been doing all his life? _Tessa wondered. _Trying to kill the Shadowhunters, or trying to copy them?_

Mortmain stopped at a large brown door at the end of the corridor and appraised her with half-closed eyes. "I think you ought to be blindfolded, in case you get any funny ideas about escaping," he remarked. He nodded to one of the automatons, which stepped forward mechanically with a piece of black cloth in its hands.

Tessa automatically tried to step back, but Mortmain's tight grasp on her arm stopped her. "Don't," she said sharply as the automaton advanced toward her.

"Surely you understand my reasoning behind all of this…barbaric behavior?" said Mortmain with false sympathy. "It wouldn't be the first time you managed to wriggle out of my grasp. I'm not taking any chances." As if to demonstrate, he squeezed her arm so hard she clenched her teeth around a cry of pain.

Tessa took a deep breath and forced herself to remain still while the clockwork creature draped the thick cloth around her head, tying it several times in the back. What could she do to stop it anyhow?

"That's better," said Mortmain with satisfaction after he had ensured that Tessa could see nothing. "Come along, darling, and try not to trip."

He led her at an unreasonably fast pace for a person who currently did not have the use of her eyes, and Tessa found it quite hard to keep her footing. She stumbled often but never fell, thankfully, for she half feared that Mortmain wouldn't break stride and would drag her along the ground behind him.

After turning so many corners that Tessa lost track of what direction they were going, Mortmain murmured to her, "We will be descending some stairs now, so come slowly and cautiously."

Tessa wanted to rip the blindfold off, for descending stairs in this state was absolutely ludicrous, but instead she allowed him to lead her downward, her heart thumping with growing fear as the temperature dropped drastically and an odd, rotting smell drifted up toward her.

Mortmain steadied her when they reached the bottom. She could feel his hand quivering on her arm, perhaps from anticipation, or perhaps from fear. She could not tell.

She felt his breath hot on her ear, his voice trembling with suppressed excitement and tension. "Brace yourself, my angel. I daresay you won't be expecting this."

Then he tore off her blindfold.

Tessa blinked, trying to adjust her eyes to the light, though there was little. She didn't have much time to observe the room she stood in, or try to look for possible escape routes in doors or windows. All she saw was the massive, horrifying creature that was crouched in a pentagram in the middle of the room.

"Tessa," said Mortmain breathlessly, "I would like to acquaint you with Cruor, the Greater Demon of death and bloodshed."

* * *

Will slipped out of the infirmary, eyes flickering back and forth along the corridor as he searched for Tessa. Somehow, she had already vanished, though he had followed her out not even a minute after she had left the room.

He was about to set off for her room when he heard the door open behind him and inwardly groaned.

"Will," Jem's voice said. "Can I have a word?"

Will almost made a break for it, but he suspected that Jem would not be pleased. He was already irritated with Will, and he mustn't make it worse. So he turned to look at his friend with a thin smile. "Of course you can, James. You can always have a word with me."

"Why were you badgering Tessa like that?" Jem asked, and there was quiet anger in his tone.

He'd known this was coming, but it didn't make it any easier to answer. Will blew out a long breath and looked up at the ceiling for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts. "Didn't you notice anything...strange about her?" he asked slowly.

Jem shook his head, looking frustrated. "We're Shadowhunters, Will. We're used to seeing blood and wounds. Tessa isn't. It must have been traumatic to see all that blood—"

"Jem," Will interrupted, giving him a look. "You and I both know that Tessa has seen far worse than a cut on the maid's head."

Jem looked at him for a long moment, his silver eyes no longer angry. "Tessa is a part of the Institute now, Will, whether you like it or not," he said softly.

Will stared. "I'm not saying this because I want to get her kicked out, for the love of the Angel! I'm _worried, _all right?"

For a moment Will was certain amusement passed across Jem's face. "William Herondale, worried about someone other than himself?" he murmured, almost as if to himself. "Perhaps the world really is turning upside down." With that, he turned and went back into the infirmary, leaving Will with the lingering feeling that Jem was still unhappy with him.

* * *

Tessa couldn't decide whether she wanted to faint or scream. Perhaps sensing their presence, the monster lifted its huge head and fixed them with a black stare that seemed to swallow Tessa up and fold her in a place of shadows.

"You summoned a demon," she whispered, taking an unsteady step backward. She would have fallen if Mortmain hadn't taken hold of her shoulders from behind.

"It seemed like a much simpler way of getting what I want," said Mortmain. There was a frown in his voice when he spoke again. "Of course, perhaps this could have been avoided if you had been so easy to capture before. Why didn't I think of that clockwork clone sooner?"

Tessa felt her stomach clench into a knot. _Clockwork clone? _She searched her mind for some memory that matched up with what he said. An image floated to the center of her brain, a surreal feeling of standing quite solidly in one place and yet seeing herself in another, and she had the most chilling smile on her face, her eyes were so cold—

Her thoughts were broken off as Mortmain began to steer her toward the glowing pentagram where the demon sat watchfully. The memory crumbled away like sand falling between her fingers.

She dug her heels into the thick, dusty carpet. "No," she said, her voice a ragged breath of fear. "Don't make me go nearer."

"Come now, Tessa, don't be rude," said Mortmain, pushing her more forcefully still. "Cruor has waited ever so long to meet you."

She tried to wrench away from his hands, but that only made him wind his arms around her waist, trapping her arms to her sides. She tried to kick him in the shins but he just chuckled in her ear.

"Even if you do manage to get away from me, do you honestly believe you could get past my clockwork army?"

The very idea of facing all of those automatons made Tessa's heart sink straight to the soles of her feet, but she just thrashed harder, desperate to put more distance between herself and the horrific creature before her.

"Why have you brought me here?" she gasped. "What could you hope to gain by forcing me to meet this—_thing?" _

The demon tipped its head to the side and studied her with its icy black eyes. "Are you sure she will do?" it asked, its voice sending chills through Tessa as if someone had dragged their silverware over a plate. It was impossibly deep and yet with an echoing shrillness behind it; Tessa could not quite put her finger on what it sounded like, but she knew for certain it would haunt her nightmares for a long time to come.

"Quite," Mortmain said, holding her tighter against his chest. She no longer struggled, but stood frozen as the demon's eyes poured despair into her.

Tessa managed to find her voice again and cried, "_What are you going to do?" _

"We are having a little ceremony, of course," said Mortmain, his voice silky but with an undercurrent of wildness that frightened Tessa. "And you are the guest of honor, Theresa Gray."

* * *

Will had never felt particularly comfortable going to Tessa's room. He sometimes wondered if the other inhabitants of the Institute judged him when he went there, as if suddenly a door to his mind had been thrown open and every thought and every feeling were available to everyone who took the time to look.

He felt even warier now as he walked silently down the corridor to her door. He knew Charlotte would rip him to pieces if she caught on that he was disturbing Tessa, who was meant to be "resting." Jem would assume that Will was going to badger her again—and he would, of course, be correct.

He stopped outside her door, wondering how it could be possible that he had stood in this very spot just hours ago, fearing for Tessa's life. Now, he was nothing but suspicious of her. How could things change so drastically in such a short amount of time?

Will raised his fist automatically to knock, and then with a wild, impulsive urge he merely grabbed the doorknob and barged straight in.

He had expected a scream, at the very least a gasp of surprise. But Tessa, who stood with her back to him staring out the window, didn't move a muscle when he burst into her bedroom.

"Tessa," said Will, forcing himself to sound calm. "I think we need to talk."

"I expect we do." Her voice was flat, so unlike the voice he knew.

A part of him wanted to go to her, take her hand, coax the problem out of her. But the rest of him was much wiser than that. There was something wrong here, something horribly off.

"Tessa," he said slowly. "What really happened to Sophie?"

She kept her back to him. "I told you what happened to Sophie. I apologize if you don't believe me."

"I would have thought that you would know not to treat me like an idiot by now."

"Oh, I know you are no idiot, William Herondale." She turned abruptly, and the way she looked at him made him suppress a shudder. Her eyes were dark, metallic…alien.

"What's wrong with you?" He lowered his voice, taking a step toward her. "Tessa, please. Tell me what happened."

She tipped her head slightly to one side. "Are you all right, Will? I hope you didn't catch a chill from your swim in the river last night."

Will froze. So she _had _been with him at the river. Did that mean that she remembered things that he did not? Was whatever that had happened last night the reason that she was acting so odd?

But nothing could have altered Tessa this much. This person wore Tessa's face, but the similarities ended there.

"You aren't Tessa." Will had rarely heard his own voice sound so cold.

She smiled at him, an empty, threatening smile. "If you want to know about that night," she said softly, "you will keep your mouth shut. Is that clear?"

Will looked at her, searching for any sign of his Tessa in her eyes, but he saw nothing. He did not understand how she could look like Tessa but be someone else; all he knew was that it could not be her. She had practically admitted it by refraining from denying his accusation.

Yet he couldn't go to anyone to tell them what he suspected. Not when this…_thing_ held the details of last night over his head. He had to know what had happened. If he did, would he know what had become of the real Tessa?

"Tell me where she is or I swear by the Angel I will slit your throat here and now," he growled.

Her smile didn't waver. "I expect you'd have an interesting time explaining why you killed me to the rest of the Institute. I am not going to pretend to you, William Herondale. You are neither blind nor stupid. If you want to know the truth, then find it. Perhaps your Tessa is locked up somewhere inside of me." She touched her chest, as if indicating her heart. With that she swept past him and left the room so quickly he had no time to stop her.

Will stayed where he was for a long time, staring out the window at the gray city, hating himself for the indecision he felt.


	6. Chapter 6

**Thanks for reading and reviewing! You guys are the best! **

Tessa could do nothing but struggle uselessly as Mortmain moved them even closer to the pentagram, easing her up until the tips of her toes were touching the very edge of it. She was breathless with fear as the demon slunk closer, eyeing her with its horrid black eyes, its rank breath billowing down on her in smoky clouds.

Tessa wanted to shout at Mortmain to let her go, to bring her away from the monster staring hungrily at her. She wanted to kick at his shins and run for safety, but her limbs had frozen up with terror and she stood stiffly in Mortmain's tight embrace. Her throat was so tight she could only manage to gasp out, "Please."

"Cruor has made a little deal with me," Mortmain hissed in her ear, sounding sickeningly pleased with himself. "If I do something for him, he will exterminate every living Shadowhunter in return."

Tessa felt a little faint. How was that possible? Surely there had to be thousands of Shadowhunters throughout the world? One demon could not find them all.

But she was not sure of this, not at all. A growing sense of dread was filling her as she wondered what the demon had asked for its favor…

"It's quite simple, really," said Mortmain, as if he had read her mind. "All Cruor needs is a sacrifice, lovely blood spilled on the floor before him." Tessa could hear the smile in his voice as he whispered, "That's where you come in, my dear."

* * *

Will walked slowly, numbly, down the stairs, his hand trailing limply on the railing. He could see the other members of the Institute gathered not far away, talking softly to one another. He stopped at the foot of the staircase and watched darkly as Tessa, or the person who claimed to be her, slipped her arm through Jem's, who looked down to beam at her. It made him furious, seeing her touch his best friend like that, when Will knew she was nothing more than a fake.

Trying to put on a smooth expression, Will strode over to the others, interrupting whatever they were saying by asking loudly, "What's going on now?"

Charlotte was fiddling with her fingers, and she had a look of deep concentration on her face. "Tessa has confessed something to us," she began, and Will's heart lifted just the slightest bit with hope.

But of course he could not expect her to admit to who she really was. Charlotte nodded at Tessa to explain. Tessa lowered her eyes as if embarrassed to have so much attention on her—something, Will thought, the real Tessa might have done in a situation like this. But he wasn't fooled for an instant.

"I'm afraid I haven't been entirely truthful with you all," she said. "I only told the story of Sophie tripping because I didn't want to get her into trouble." She hesitated, looking up at Jem as if for permission to continue. He nodded encouragingly, looking concerned, and Will inwardly gagged. How could his _parabatai _not see straight through this impersonator?

"Go on," Charlotte said, her eyebrows drawing together worriedly.

"The truth is… I woke up to find Sophie already in my room. She was talking with someone else, and they were being very quiet, most likely so as not to wake me. The person had their back to me, so I couldn't be sure who it was. I pretended to sleep so that I could eavesdrop. It wasn't a very polite thing to do, but I felt the situation called for it."

Will snorted softly to himself and Charlotte cast him a sharp glance.

Tessa's eyes passed dismissively over him, unperturbed by his scorn, and she went on. "They seemed to be arguing about something. I couldn't quite tell what it was, because all of a sudden Sophie became incredibly angry and started telling the other person off for something. Then the stranger lost his—or her—temper and struck Sophie. Then it…well, it jumped out the window."

"Mm-hmm," said Will, his voice dripping with disbelief. "So you're saying a person jumped out of your bedroom window and is _not _currently a pile of crumpled bones on the ground outside?"

"Will," Charlotte hissed. "Let her finish, would you?"

Will scowled but forced himself to remain silent.

"The way the person moved," said Tessa in a hushed voice, "it looked like…like one of Mortmain's automatons."

Jem's arm tightened through hers, and the concern on his face made Will want to dispel the contents of his stomach there on the floor. This pretender was not worth a drop of Jem's care.

"I still don't understand why you didn't tell us before," said Henry, looking perplexed. _Finally, someone else isn't accepting this as easily as they accepted the first story, _Will thought sourly.

"I told you," Tessa murmured. "I didn't want to get Sophie into trouble. It looked as if…she knew this automaton. Like they were meeting for a reason."

"In your bedroom?" Will scoffed.

"This is why we didn't invite you to hear her story in the first place, Will," said Jem sharply. "You would only be sarcastic and unhelpful, and that is exactly what happened."

Will didn't take his eyes off of Tessa, who kept her gaze fixed on the floor. "I think I'm entitled to come to every meeting, whether or not I make rude comments," he said.

"You aren't helping, Will," Charlotte snapped. She rubbed her temples with her fingertips and heaved a sigh. "Tessa, I wish you would have told us earlier."

"I'm sorry. Sophie is a dear friend of mine. I didn't want to…" Her voice faltered, or pretended to, and Will was disgusted with her acting. She had morphed into the role of Tessa so effortlessly. Did that mean that something really had taken over Tessa's body, as this intruder had hinted, and she was locked somewhere inside the stranger standing before him?

"We understand, Tessa," Jem said.

Tessa looked deceptively relieved. "Thank you."

Charlotte continued to look troubled. "I don't understand why Sophie would be meeting with a messenger of Mortmain's," she muttered to herself.

"And in Tessa's bedroom," Will put in loudly. Everyone ignored him.

"Perhaps she was merely trying to tell him to go away," suggested Tessa, with no real hope in her voice. Will narrowed his eyes at her. He knew exactly what she was doing; she was trying to make out as if Sophie was conspiring with the enemy. It enraged him that she would try to turn the Institute on the maid, who had clearly done none of the things that this stranger accused her of doing.

"What would one of Mortmain's clockwork creatures be doing in Tessa's room?" Henry wondered aloud, surprising Will with his attentiveness to the conversation.

"That's what I've been saying all along!" Will exclaimed, and was again ignored.

"Trying to capture her?" said Jem darkly. "Perhaps Sophie really was fending him off."

"With words?" Charlotte looked doubtful.

"Here's an idea," said Will, loudly enough that they all looked at him. "What if Mortmain didn't send any bloody automatons and this is all a made up story? Perhaps Tessa hit her head as well."

Silence met his words. Tessa was looking at him with flat gray eyes, Charlotte looked shocked, and Jem angry.

"Will, can I talk to you?" Jem was already dragging him away from the others, down a dimly lit corridor.

"My, you have been wanting to talk quite a bit recently, despite the fact that you ignore everything I have to say," Will said stiffly, feeling distinctly aggravated.

Jem ran his fingers jerkily through his hair, looking frustrated. "I don't understand why you're treating Tessa this way," he exclaimed. "Why would she make up a story about an automaton and Sophie?"

"Why would she make up a story about Sophie falling and hitting her head?" Will challenged, crossing his arms defiantly across his chest.

Jem sighed. "Because she's trying to protect her! Why can't you understand that? And why are you being so foul to her? Did you have an argument?"

"You could say that," Will answered coolly.

"Please, Will. Don't take out whatever petty anger you're feeling on Tessa. She's frightened now, and she needs us—both of us." Jem gave him a look and made to walk back down the corridor.

No. Will would _not _take another lecture from his friend without making Jem listen to him in return. He caught his _parabatai's _arm, holding him in place.

"Jem," he said in a low, urgent voice, his tone making Jem go still. "I think something's wrong with Tessa. Haven't you noticed how differently she's acting? Don't you think that she's acting like…a stranger?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Jem's tone was stiff.

"You haven't noticed anything? Nothing at all?" Will was beginning to feel dismayed. He had always felt, for the most part, that he and Jem were always on the same page, always thinking the same thing. But now he was faced with the idea that he and his closest friend might be on different sides this time.

If Jem refused to believe him about Tessa, then who would? Who could he trust that wouldn't recount what he'd said to this impersonator Tessa, and destroy his chances of learning what had happened at the river?

* * *

"You're going to sacrifice me." Tessa stared at the demon before her, beginning to quiver. "To this monster."

"Monster is such a broad term," the demon purred. "I am much worse than a monster."

"I do wish there was some other way," said Mortmain apologetically, though Tessa could sense the dark delight he took in this whole sick thing. "You do understand, don't you? There's no other way for me to achieve what I want."

Tessa didn't respond, and Mortmain turned her to face him. Their faces were uncomfortably close; his eyes searched hers intently. "I will miss your lovely face," he sighed regretfully. "It always did give me such pleasure to look upon you."

Tessa then did something she had never done in her life, nor had she ever expected to do. She spit in Mortmain's face. A part of her was appalled by her barbaric behavior; the rest of her felt nothing but satisfaction for the shocked expression on Mortmain's face that was quickly turning to rage.

"You insolent cow," he snarled, and slapped her hard across the face.

"Get on with it, human," the demon's grating voice growled from behind Tessa. "I am impatient to be freed." Tessa looked over her shoulder, cheek stinging, to see the beast trying unsuccessfully to stretch its wings within the boundaries of the pentagram.

"Of course," Mortmain muttered, still red-faced with fury. He unwound something from round his arm—a long piece of rope, which he used to tie Tessa's wrists behind her back. He pushed her to the ground, and she fell heavily, unable to catch herself with her hands. She gritted her teeth against a cry of pain and stared stonily ahead as she felt his fingers circle her ankles, tying them together as well.

His hands lingered on her legs, and a shudder of revulsion passed through her. "Again," he whispered, his voice harder than before, "such a shame."

Then he straightened and strode over to a bookshelf, heaving out a thick, ancient book and carrying it back to where Tessa lay. She was left to lie on the ground, staring at the demon's talons, which clawed the ground impatiently, leaving deep gouges in the carpet.

"Are you certain you can manage this?" The demon's voice was mocking. "Why not fetch your little warlock to help you again?"

Mortmain's eyes darkened, and he snapped, "I am more than capable of performing this ritual. I have practiced countless hours." His eyes dropped to the book in his hands and a strange look crossed his face.

Mortmain began to chant in a language that Tessa could not understand, his voice low and tense. Tessa fought subtly against her bindings, unwilling to alert Mortmain to her struggles, but he was too immersed in his chanting to notice. She fought harder, burning her skin against the rough rope, but that did not matter in the face of what was about to happen.

A growl rose from Cruor's throat, anticipatory and satisfied, as Mortmain's voice rose to a strangled cry, his eyes bulging as they zipped back and forth along the pages he read. Tessa closed her eyes, bracing herself for something—she wasn't sure what, but a spell that powerful had to have some large effect, didn't it?

Mortmain finished the chant with a shout, throwing his head back to stare at the ceiling as if he expected lightning to flash on its surface. Silence stretched around them, deafening in its entirety.

"Well?" The demon's voice was soft and dangerous.

"I don't understand." Mortmain began flipping wildly through the spell book. "The pentagram should turn red, and there should be a hot wind, and—"

"Do you mean to tell me that _it didn't work?" _Cruor roared the last words, and his voice shook the entire house to its foundation. Mortmain cringed away from the demon, terrified, and Tessa stared up at it, transfixed by the enraged flames of fire that flickered in its black eyes.

"I must have mispronounced a syllable." Mortmain sounded frantic as he searched through the book, finally locating the page he needed. He traced his finger along the lines, eyes darting to and fro, and then his face was filled with disbelief.

"What is it?" the demon snarled, voice vibrating with anger, hatred, and frustration.

Mortmain took a step back, trying to put distance between himself and Cruor. "It says that the ritual must be preformed at a full moon," he said meekly. "Which is not due for several days now—"

Tessa felt dizzy with relief. She was not certain when exactly the full moon would come, but it bought her a little time. Perhaps she could find a way out, perhaps Will would come for her—

Her thoughts were interrupted by an earth-shattering bellow of rage from Cruor. Debris rained from the ceiling with the force of the demon's fury. Mortmain dove for cover with a cry of terror, leaving Tessa alone and exposed. She curled herself into a ball, trying to protect herself as best she could as the ceiling collapsed under the strength of the demon.

A part of her mind took the time to wonder, _If this demon is powerful enough to bring in a ceiling when it is contained, what sort of damage will it do when it is free? _

This was her last thought, as something hard struck her in the head and the world blinked out.


	7. Chapter 7

It was harder than Will thought it would be to get Tessa alone. Jem was at her side almost constantly, and Will got the feeling that he was trying to protect her from any more seemingly uncalled for attacks on Will's part. Or perhaps Tessa was the one trailing after Jem, meaning to avoid Will. Either way, they were together for the rest of the day, and Will's frustration grew.

Will was currently lingering just around the corner of where Jem and Tessa stood discussing a tapestry. He was not in a good mood. He was prepared to stick his own seraph blade into his heart rather than listen to more of their boring talk of art, and aside from that he felt like an obsessed prowler, lurking in the shadows this way.

He heard footsteps approaching and pressed himself against the wall. He eased his head around the corner so that he could see the newcomer. It was Gideon, his expression still solemn from the accident with Sophie this morning. "Charlotte wishes to speak to us, James," he said, his voice sounding heavy.

Jem offered his arm to Tessa, but Gideon added uncomfortably, "Shadowhunters only, she said."

Jem hesitated a moment, but then he turned to Tessa and murmured, "I'll be right back." Then he turned and walked away with Gideon, muttering softly to him.

Will wouldn't have been terribly surprised if he wasn't invited to this meeting, but he moved quickly just in case. He slipped out of the shadows and strode up to Tessa, who continued to stare unblinkingly at the tapestry she had been admiring with Jem. He used all of his training as a Shadowhunter to move swiftly and silently, so that she never saw him coming when he grabbed her by the shoulders, spun her around, and slammed her against the wall.

Will could not help but notice that her expression didn't change throughout this; she stared at him blankly as he pinned her roughly against the cold wall, as if he hadn't taken her by surprise at all.

"Yes?" she said calmly, infuriating him with the casual way she spoke.

"You're going to tell me about that night," he said in a low voice, wary of drawing attention to them. "Now. Or I'll snap your neck in two."

She smiled faintly at him. "I would like to see you try."

Will was honestly shocked; the real Tessa never would have tested him like this. She would never have guessed him to be bluffing, whether or not he really was; then again, he would not have threatened the real Tessa like this in the first place.

"Tell me," was all he said, pressing his forearm against her throat, not hard enough to cut off her air, but to prove that he meant business.

She continued to look unconcerned. "You have not kept your word," she said softly, looking him right in the eye. He was stricken once again by how her eyes seemed to belong to a stranger, empty of their familiar warmth and compassion and intelligence.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said, though his stomach sank.

"You have been spreading rumors about me." Tessa smiled sweetly at him, though it did not touch her eyes. "Why can't we just get along, William? There is nothing to fear from me. I will not hurt you or your Shadowhunter friends."

Will shivered as these words came out of Tessa's mouth, sounding so wrong. "Where is Tessa?" he snarled, struggling to pitch his voice low.

She blinked at him. "I am right here."

He pressed against her throat, rage blooming inside his chest. "If you've hurt her," he whispered through gritted teeth, "If you've done anything to her—"

"I did nothing," she whispered back, flat eyes holding his. "Nothing at all to her. I didn't touch a hair on her head."

Will searched her face, searched her for any signs of his Tessa, but it was as if an entirely different person faced him. Which was utterly true, he realized with a jolt. "Tell me where she is."

"I cannot tell you that. But I will tell you about that night, if you agree to stop telling everyone that I am a fake. Including Jem." By the smile that played on her lips, Will knew that she could tell she would get him to keep his mouth shut. "I will let your last misstep slide, but the next time I will not be so lenient."

"Are you threatening me?" Will glared at her and added a bit more pressure to the arm against her neck.

She only smiled and waited. The pressure against her throat seemed to have no effect on her, and after a few more moments Will gave up. "Fine."

"We went for a walk," she said, her voice so soft he had to lean forward to hear her. For a moment he was confused—then he realized with scorn that she meant that she had been with him that night. Why did she continue to act like Will didn't know exactly who she was—or rather, who she wasn't? "It was raining. We went to a bridge."

Will shut his eyes, focusing on the scraps of memory that were starting to emerge. He saw raindrops dotting the road in front of him, felt Tessa's warm presence at his side, her smile flashing at him in the darkness. His heart constricted with longing as he thought of her.

"You fell into the river."

So that really hadn't been a dream, Will thought. Why would he have fallen into the river? It certainly didn't sound like him…

"Please remove your arm," said Tessa, meaningfully glancing down at it.

"You haven't finished telling me what you know."

"There is nothing more to tell." Her smile was gone; she looked at him coldly now, emotionlessly.

"Something else happened," he said through his teeth. He pressed down hard with his arm, hard enough that a normal person would have gasped for breath or thrashed against him, but Tessa didn't move. "Tell me what it is."

She stared at him like an empty shell of a person, stared straight through him as if he weren't there.

He threw his weight against his arm, his fury giving him strength, as red licked his vision. This imposter would not get away from him again. He must know what happened that night, what had happened to the real Tessa—

"_Will!" _

The shriek came from behind him. He spun around automatically in surprise, to see Charlotte, Jem, Henry, and Gideon gathered together not far away, looking on in horror as Tessa crumpled to the ground beside Will.

* * *

Tessa woke in a bed, something that came as unexpected to her. It took her a few moments to remember where she was, and why her head ached even worse than before. Then the memories surged back, along with her fear.

She was no longer in the room with the demon, though the memory of it made her shudder. She could not believe that Mortmain would want to sacrifice her in order to unleash that unstoppable power on the world; did he honestly believe that this monster would spare him when it slaughtered the Shadowhunters?

Tessa closed her eyes and laid her head back against the pillow for a moment, longing for her own bed in the Institute, for the presence and voices of her friends. She wondered desolately if they had noticed her absence. The thought sparked a shadow of a memory, the same memory that had come to mind in the chamber with the demon—a figure in the rain, disturbingly familiar. Shivers prickled up and down her spine, but the memory faded again before she could grasp it properly.

Tessa threw the covers off of her legs and quietly stood, ignoring the pounding in her head as she did so. She was alone in the room; perhaps now would be the only chance she got to get out before Mortmain came back for her.

She crept toward the door, already knowing that it would be locked, but turning the handle anyway. She was not surprised that the door stayed firmly shut before her. Tessa knelt down and peered at the lock closely. Her brother Nate used to pick locks all the time when they were children. Tessa had see him do it often enough. Why shouldn't she be able to do it as well?

Tessa removed one of the hairpins from her hair, which was half tumbling down her back and shoulders anyway, inserted it delicately in the lock, and began to twist it this way and that, listening for the telltale click that would mean freedom.

It proved to be much harder than Nathaniel had made it look. She was at it for ages, her muscles quivering with tension and her ears straining for any sound of footsteps beyond the door. Mortmain would not stay away for long; if she didn't get this door open quickly, he would catch her in the act of trying to escape. She did not want to know what he would do then.

Then she heard it—a clicking sound in the lock. Nearly crying with relief, Tessa threw the door open and stumbled into the corridor outside her room.

Right into an automaton.

* * *

"What are you doing?" Charlotte nearly shrieked, rushing forward to kneel at Tessa's side. Will was enraged to see her lying as if unconscious, brows drawn slightly together so that her face had a look of distress upon it. He knew that he had not harmed her, he knew that his actions would not have rendered her unconscious—she was only acting, only pretending so that he would be blamed.

"Will?" Jem was looking between him and the "unconscious" Tessa, his face full of shock. "What's going on?" He sounded as if he could not quite believe his eyes.

Will shifted his eyes between the three men facing him, men that suddenly looked ready to attack him if they saw necessary. Gideon was shaking his head grimly, and Henry looked confused and alarmed, his hand hovering near the blade at his belt. Jem did not seem to be able to settle on an emotion.

Will knew what he must say. "I do not know what came over me," he said mechanically. "Forgive me."

He knew how fake the words sounded, and clearly so could the others. The shock and bewilderment faded at once from Jem's face, replaced with stoniness that cut Will to his heart. His _parabatai _had never looked at him so coldly before, and Will had never expected it to hurt this much.

"I say," said Henry, sounding astonished. "Were you trying to kill Tessa, Will?"

Will thought of the consuming rage he had felt not moments before, the whim to crush the neck of the girl standing before him, and mentally thought, _I was trying to kill someone, but it was not Tessa. _"No," was all he said.

Jem strode forward until he stood right in front of Will. His silver eyes blazed; Will had never seen him look so angry, so betrayed. "I never thought you would sink as low as this," he said softly, furiously. "You have abused Tessa, who has done nothing but trust you and care about you. You should be ashamed, William Herondale."

"You sound as if you're scolding me, James," Will replied quietly, holding his friend's gaze, willing him to see the truth. "You were always trying to steer me onto the path of decency, weren't you?"

Jem clenched his jaw and took a step back, eyes hard as rock. "I always believed that your core was good and pure, Will. I knew that you would never fail to do the right thing, in the end. But it would appear that setting you on that path is a lost cause after all," he said, and Will would have felt no less pain if Jem had run him through with a poisoned blade, for to hear his best friend give up on him, his blood brother, was more than he could bear.

"Will," said Charlotte from where she still knelt by Tessa, now joined by Gideon and Henry. She spoke without looking at him, her voice quiet. "I think you should leave now."

Will swung his head around to look at her, for a moment his expression betraying his shock. Then he composed his face into an impassive mask and said lazily, "I knew it would happen sooner or later." He hoped the intense betrayal he felt inside was not visible in his face or voice.

Charlotte closed her eyes briefly, as if trying to shut out pain. "Only for a while," she said, a touch of pleading in her tone. "Until…until you can control yourself. You cannot stay here if you are a danger to the other members of the Institute."

Will wanted to say so many things—he wanted to shout the truth at them, reveal the girl on the floor for what she really was, but the information Tessa held over his head was too tantalizing to give up. She was the only one who knew where the real Tessa's location was; he could not jeopardize his chances of finding her by breaking their deal a second time.

So he said the second best thing he could think of. "It's odd, I never expected my own family to choose someone else over me. But I suppose I shouldn't be surprised." He let his gaze rake over them, taking satisfaction in the surprise in their faces—he had never referred to them as his family before.

Then, his heart thudding out echoes of pain with each beat, he turned on his heel and strode away from them, down the hall, feeling their gazes burn his back as he went. He didn't stop until he reached the Institute doors, throwing them open with a bang and walking out the gates.

He pulled up the walls that he had so often used to shield his emotions, hardening his insides until the pain was nearly completely numb. He would be back; he had a memory to recall, a girl to find, and there was only one person who had the answers he needed.

**Thanks for reviewing guys, it really makes my day! Keep up the good work!;)**


	8. Chapter 8

Strong hands instantly wrapped around Tessa's shoulders, squeezing too tightly. She strained against the automaton's grip, desperate to free herself, but it was pointless.

The automaton was made to look like a maid, its expression blank and its mouth moving mechanically as it said, "I'm sorry, miss, but I will have to bring you to the Magister now."

"Please." Tessa wasn't sure why she was pleading with a hollow, heartless clockwork creature. There was no compassion in this thing that held her, no guilt. It had no mind of its own. It was not human. But her heart pounded at the thought of seeing Mortmain, at what he might do if he found out she had almost escaped. "Please don't take me to him."

But the automaton just said in a monotone, "Right this way," and without releasing Tessa, it pulled her down the hall. Its footsteps were jerky, causing Tessa to stumble every once and a while. The inescapable arms held her upright, cutting into her shoulders and making her feel claustrophobic.

Tessa began to hear raised voices a few hallways down—someone screaming in anger. A pang of dread spread through her as she realized that the automaton was making a beeline for the source of the yelling.

"You didn't tell me!" the voice shouted, voice seething with rage. "You said that it could be set free with an incantation and a sacrifice, you never said anything about a timeline—"

"Please," another voice begged, trembling, "I didn't know, I didn't read that part—"

"Do not lie to me!"

The automaton dragging Tessa stopped abruptly in the doorway to a spacious room that sent the voices of the two men inside echoing everywhere. Mortmain was looming over what looked to be a warlock, who was cowering in fear as he looked up at the red-faced man. This made no sense to Tessa—why should he be afraid of Mortmain? The warlock was the one who could perform magic. Was Mortmain really that intimidating?

"Sir," the clockwork automaton's voice said, flat and inflectionless.

Mortmain spun around, his eyes wild and his chest heaving. Tessa could clearly see that he was panicking. Was Cruor still raging somewhere below them? Behind the burning anger in Mortmain's eyes, Tessa could see cold fear. Displeasing a powerful Greater Demon was extremely dangerous, and he knew it.

"What?" he snarled, spit flying from his mouth.

The warlock, seizing his advantage, scurried out of the room with inhuman speed, eager to put distance between himself and Mortmain.

"Miss Gray was attempting to escape," the automaton said, and Tessa cursed it silently. Why couldn't a clockwork creature that had been built without a mouth have caught her?

Mortmain's crazed eyes shifted to Tessa and narrowed. "Attempting to escape," he repeated, and he did not yell, though his quiet voice scared Tessa even more than if he had screamed at her.

Tessa tried to stare Mortmain down, though her insides twisted with fear.

"Tessa, my dear." Mortmain slowly shook his head. "You must learn that you are not leaving this place. You must never try to escape again. Is that clear?"

"No, it isn't," said Tessa boldly. "I won't sit here and let you sacrifice me to a demon! I don't care what you say, or what you do, but believe me when I say that I will get out of here, even if it kills me."

A twisted smile spread his lips and he said softly, "Then why not stay, if you will die either way?" He turned to the automaton and said icily, "Take her downstairs. I will be there shortly to remind Miss Gray of why she mustn't try to get away again."

With that he turned on his heel and strode from the room, leaving the automaton to wrestle Tessa toward the stairs.

* * *

Will made sure to be loitering near the place he knew Jem would pass on his walk. Though Jem had taken them less and less frequently as his illness worsened, Will knew that his _parabatai _could not stay cooped inside of the Institute for long. He could only hope that Jem would not bring Tessa with him.

He had no intention of trying to convince Jem of anything—he would not press him on the matter that this Tessa was an imposter, that he hadn't meant to hurt her. The second would be a lie. In the adrenaline of the moment, he had wanted her dead.

It was bizarre thinking about Tessa that way. How could he ever want to harm her?

_It's not Tessa, _he reminded himself sternly.

Today, he just wanted to make sure that Jem was away from the Institute, and that he would not be returning any time soon. He could get past the others; it was Jem that would be hovering around Tessa like a protective guard dog. All he had to do was make him angry enough to stay away, at least for a few hours. He hated to do it to his own blood brother, but if he wanted to talk to Tessa…

He heard a sound then, absentminded humming that meant Jem was walking toward him. Will used to tease him about how he hummed without realizing it; Jem always insisted that he didn't. It made Will's heart ache to remember such carefree times. It seemed like all he could exchange with his best friend now were arguments and glares.

Jem came into view, his cane tapping lightly on the ground, his silver eyes taking in his surroundings. He looked more relaxed than he had in days.

Will crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the pub he'd been hanging around for the past half hour. Jem was so immersed in whatever thoughts were going through his head that he didn't notice Will until he stuck his foot out and the tip of Jem's cane bumped against it.

Blinking, Jem followed the foot up until his eyes rested on Will's face. For a moment Jem's face lit up, but then he seemed to remember that he was angry and his expression turned cool. "Will," he said, inclining his head slightly.

Will snorted. "James."

"Is there something you want?"

"Is that any way to talk to your blood brother?" Will asked, his eyebrows raised innocently.

"I don't have time for this," said Jem, a little more sharply this time.

Will pressed a hand to his chest in mock hurt. "That hurts, James. Especially after you threw me out of my own home."

"We had no choice," Jem snapped, and then composed himself. "Are you here to tell me more conspiracy theories about Tessa?"

"I'm just minding my own business," replied Will with a one-shouldered shrug. "Is it a crime to loiter outside pubs? On second thought, I think it is." He studied the pub behind him with a frown.

Jem sighed, successfully irritated. "Goodbye, Will."

"Aren't you going to tell me you miss me?" Will grinned at him. "Don't you want to beg me to apologize to _her _so we can all skip into the sunset together?"

"Will," said Jem tersely. His eyes had darkened; Will knew the sneer in his voice when he spoke of Tessa was getting to him.

"Maybe someday you'll see that I've been right all along, Jem," said Will quietly, dropping his taunting smile.

Jem took a step back, eyes cold. "I don't know what's gotten into you, Will, and I don't know why you've targeted Tessa like this, but I won't stand for it. I won't let you hurt her again."

"You're the ones hurting Tessa," Will growled, taking a step nearer as the other man stepped back. "She's out there somewhere, probably hurt and scared and wondering where we are. And you won't even listen—"

"Have you lost your mind?" Jem cried. "Do you hear yourself? What could possess you to think that this isn't the real Tessa? Why would it look exactly like her, act exactly like her?"

Will knew that this Tessa did not act like the real one; he had seen the emotion leave her face, the cold way she looked at him, and the way she had withstood being choked until she had gained an audience. She did not look like Tessa, either—her eyes were all wrong.

But he could not tell any of this to Jem.

Jem's pale face was turning red, his eyes sparking with anger. Will had rarely seen him like this, and it made his stomach constrict to think that he was the one causing his _parabatai _pain.

"Do you care more about her than about me?" Will had not meant to ask the question that had been floating around in is mind, but it slipped out of his mouth without permission. He pressed his lips together, embarrassed that he'd let his hurt show so clearly.

Jem's silver eyes softened. "You are my blood brother," he said quietly. "You are the most important person in my world. But I won't put Tessa in danger. Not for you, not for anyone."

Will felt his own temper rising. "That's not Tessa," he said, and he knew he had finally pushed Jem over the edge.

Expression hard once again, Jem opened his mouth to say something, changed his mind, and turned around, walking stiffly in the other direction. Will watched him go, filled with sadness. Just as Jem said, they were everything to each other. Jem had never been reluctant to trust Will's word in the past. Did he love Tessa so much that it outshone his faith in his blood brother?

Will shook his head. He could not think about these things now. Instead he turned in the direction of the Institute and began walking.

* * *

"Downstairs" was not the room with the demon as Tessa had feared, much to her relief. It was a dark, drafty dungeon of a room, where Tessa could swear she heard the skittering of rats' claws in the shadows; spider webs clung to the ceiling.

She didn't have to wait long for Mortmain to show up. The creaking of the rusty door announced his arrival. He still had that frenzied, disheveled look about him; his hair stood on end, his eyes were too wide, and his hands were in fists at his sides. But he still smiled when he looked at Tessa—a hard, angry smile.

"What are you going to do now?" She meant it to sound like a brave question, but her voice quavered. Cursing herself, she lifted her head and attempted to look dignified.

"I am going to teach you what happens when you disobey me." His voice rasped in his throat, probably hoarse from all his screaming. Mortmain strode up to Tessa and as he reached her, he slapped her hard before he had even stopped walking.

She gasped, more out of surprise than the actual pain of it. Hand to her cheek, she watched him circle her like a predator circling its prey, and the last of her courage began to dwindle. She didn't like the unhinged way about him. She had no way of knowing what he was capable of doing in this mood.

Mortmain stepped forward and seized her wrist, quick as a snake. Tessa tried to jerk away from him but he held on tight. His eyes locked with hers, and Tessa could see years of grief and rage and fear behind them, like they had tainted his soul.

"You belong to me," he said, wrenching her toward him by the arm. She clenched her teeth around a little yelp of pain, preventing it from leaving her lips. She was now standing uncomfortably close to him. He reached up as if to caress her face, but instead grabbed a fistful of her hair.

Tessa could vaguely remember having her hair pulled by Nathaniel when they were children. She had always hated it, but then it had just been a brother tormenting his sister. Mortmain meant to hurt her, and he succeeded. Prickles of pain tingled all over her scalp.

Mortmain threw her to the ground, ripping out a few strands of her hair that had tangled around his fingers. Tessa's eyes watered from the pain but she kept quiet.

Mortmain's eyes did not leave hers. He took her roughly by the chin, bringing her face close to his. "Power is survival in this world," he said softly. "Do not look at me like that."

"Like what?" she managed to say.

His mouth twisted. "Like I'm some sort of monster. I am only trying to survive, my dove." Rage suddenly burned in his eyes and he snarled, "I said don't look at me like that!"

He punched her in the jaw and she toppled sideways, her cheek hitting the freezing stone floor. She tasted blood in her mouth as she struggled to sit up again.

Mortmain took her by the wrists and hauled her forcefully to her feet, slamming her against the wall.

"I'm going to ask you again." His voice was still dangerously quiet. "Are you going to try to escape again, Tessa?"

She bit her lip hard and didn't say anything.

He slammed her against the wall again, harder this time. It jarred her whole body and drove the breath out of her lungs.

"Did you hear me?" he shouted.

"Please," she gasped out. He shoved her against the wall a third time, his hand at her throat. She tried to twist her head away.

"Answer me!"

He took her by the shoulders, drew her away from the wall, and smashed her into it one last time. Her head cracked against it and her vision bled into dark. She could hear him raging somewhere above her just before she lost consciousness.

* * *

**Thanks for reading and reviewing!**


	9. Chapter 9

_Thanks for reading and reviewing! There's a little snippet of Shakespearean poetry in here (which I am disclaiming right this moment) and some poetry which I thought sounded Shakespeare-like and put in there as well. _

* * *

Will walked with confidence as he strolled up to the front door of the Institute, throwing it open with a bang as he had when he wasn't shunned by the entire household. He strode inside, his hands clasped behind his back, humming quietly to himself.

Cyril, who was standing at the bottom of the staircase and looking suspiciously like a guard, looked startled as Will approached. "Master Herondale? What are you doing here?"

"Ran into Jem on his walk," Will answered cheerfully. "We straightened everything out."

Cyril's brow furrowed and he looked at Will doubtfully.

Will heaved a sigh. "He has convinced me that Tessa is not a filthy imposter after all. Did you know Jem could be that persuasive? I, for one, had no idea."

"Does this mean you're moving back in?"

Will smiled charmingly. "I should like to think so, yes."

There was another short stretch of silence, and then Cyril's frown smoothed into a grin. "I'm glad you're back, Master Will."

Will ignored the slight twinge of guilt he felt for deceiving Cyril; he always had been so trusting. But this was more important than being honest with the coachman.

"If you don't mind, I'm going to go and see Tessa. I need to apologize for my horrendous behavior, you know," he said, attempting to step past Cyril, only to have the other man block his way again. Will frowned at him. "You see, Cyril, in order to get up the stairs, you have to move out of my way. It's basic logic."

Cyril's smile had faded and he looked uncomfortable. "Master Jem told me not to let a single soul past this point. He said Miss Gray needed to rest."

Will put on the most desolate expression he could muster, staring tragically past Cyril to the top of the stairs. "Come what sorrow can," he cried, "it cannot countervail the exchange of joy that one short minute gives me in her sight!"

Looking alarmed, Cyril stammered out, "P-pardon?"

"That she has taken the life of my soul and I cannot but pray to retrieve it again," he continued, flinging his arms wide. "For until I lay my eyes upon her lovely face may I find peace in my heart, for—"

"Never mind," said Cyril quickly, looking more and more overwhelmed. He stepped aside and added, "Go on if you wish, sir."

Will straightened and nodded cordially at Cyril before ascending the stairs, laughing silently to himself. Poetry always had been a deadly weapon in the right hands.

* * *

Tessa had woken to find herself back in the small, cold cell she had been held in when she had first been brought to the mansion. Her head felt as if it was splitting open with pain, and she could feel numerous bruises covering her body. She got shakily to her feet and walked to the door, wrapping her fingers around the knob and tugging, even though she knew it would do no good.

There was no chance of picking the lock this time. Her hair, tangled and falling into her face in a way that was quite irritating, had been freed of all hairpins, and even if it hadn't been it wouldn't have mattered. The door locked from the outside, not the inside.

But something had changed inside of Tessa. Perhaps it was just a result of her pounding head; perhaps Mortmain had shaken some of her sanity loose as he threw her around the dungeon. Whatever the cause, Tessa no longer felt terrified. She felt angry.

Not just angry. Furious.

The entirety of what Mortmain was doing had begun to dawn on her, the known and unknown alike. He was planning on setting an extremely powerful force loose on the world without knowing the consequences. He had no way of knowing if he would even survive the ordeal—all he cared about was the extermination of all Shadowhunters, a feat that might prove impossible even for a Greater Demon like Cruor. Mundanes and Downworlders would no doubt be harmed in the process as well, something Mortmain had either overlooked or did not care about.

Aside from his illogical wish to kill Shadowhunters, his persistence that he do everything in his power to ruin Tessa's life infuriated her as well. She thought back to the day where it had all begun, where she had come from America to live with her brother after her aunt had died, and Mrs. Dark and Mrs. Black had abducted her. From that moment on, her life had changed completely, and it was all because of Mortmain.

But perhaps it was not all bad. If none of this had happened, she never would have met Sophie, or Charlotte and Henry, or Jem. Or Will.

Thinking about them made her heart twist with sadness and longing, and then with fear. There had to be a reasonable explanation for why they hadn't come for her yet. Perhaps they were searching and had not yet found Mortmain's hideout? That was the most desirable reason, but Tessa could not bring herself to believe that they would leave her there so long, that Mortmain could hide himself so completely, especially in a huge mansion like this one.

The other explanation was that they had been hurt, that Mortmain had made certain that they could not come after her.

The very thought of it sent Tessa stumbling back against the wall as unwanted images of her friends, her new family, lying dead on the ground came into her mind.

_No, _she thought fiercely, pushing the thoughts away. They were Shadowhunters, trained for battle and for survival. They would not be defeated so easily.

But perhaps they were locked up somewhere, much like Tessa was. Maybe they needed her help.

Tessa straightened, feeling strength push away her blinding headache and the weakness and pain in her limbs. Waiting around to be saved was doing her no good. She was not useless here; certainly she was no fighter, and she could never be as fearless as Will or Jem, but she did have one advantage.

Being able to change herself into someone else.

Without realizing what she was doing, Tessa smiled for the first time in days.

* * *

Will was not surprised to find that the door to "Tessa's" room was locked. Annoyed, he knocked on the door, forcing himself not to pound it inward.

"Jem?" The tremulous note in her voice disgusted him. He had to give her credit for her impeccable acting skills, though. "Is that you?"

"Yes," he answered, in the best impression he had of Jem's voice. The imitation was poor, but a few moments later the door opened and revealed Tessa's tired, anxious eyes.

The moment they focused on his face, they went flat and cold. She tried to slam the door shut again, but he stuck his foot between the frame and the door, holding it open.

"Why, Tessa, how rude of you," he said, staring hard at her. "Aren't you going to invite me inside?"

"You are not supposed to be here."

"I just couldn't keep myself away from your pleasant company." Will forced himself the rest of the way into the room. Tessa backed away quickly, her body tense, but not in a natural way.

She smiled coldly at him. "You are here to ask me more questions."

"Of course. Did you expect me to give up?"

"If you valued your life, you would."

He laughed darkly. "I hope you aren't trying to frighten me."

"Have you been spreading more rumors about me?"

"Not a word." This was a lie, of course, as he had just had yet another argument with Jem on the matter, but that was different. He hadn't actually been trying to convince him of anything; he had merely wanted to get him angry enough to take a long walk to clear his head.

"I told you I would tell you about that night if you stopped gossiping." Her smile was so disturbingly emotionless. Will wanted to look away, but he didn't quite dare. His mind was lingering on the image of her standing over a bleeding Sophie, knowing that she was the one behind the maid's injury. He was certain he could fight her off, but he didn't want to give her any advantages. "I told you what happened. We have nothing more to speak of."

"You're right. Except for one last thing." He stepped nearer. "You haven't told me where the real Tessa is."

"It is of no importance."

"It is to me," he said in a low, dangerous voice. "I'm not interested in playing your games anymore. Tell me where she is, or I swear I will kill you."

She smiled emptily at him again. "And I will scream loud enough to shatter the windows, and bring everyone running to see. And you will be held accountable for dear, sweet Tessa Gray's death. I wonder what that would do to your friend James."

They stared each other down, both trying to read the other's bluff. Will twisted his hands into fists at his sides, frustrated beyond endurance. How could he get answers out of her in a way that didn't involve violence? What other bargain could he make with her?

"You don't have to tell me anything about Tessa," he said at last. He narrowed his eyes at her. "Tell me who you are. And tell me how you managed to look just like her."

"Surely you have had enough experience with people who can put on the faces of whomever they choose," she said softly, and Will's blood turned icy.

The imposter Tessa turned her impassive gaze away from him and murmured, "I would leave if I were you. Jem will be back any moment, and he will not take kindly to finding you in my room."

Will knew she was right. He was desperate to ask her more questions, force her to talk, even as his feet carried him to the door, out of the room. He walked quickly back down the hall, angry that he hadn't learned more. But perhaps he was getting closer to the answer.

As he walked out of the Institute again, his numb mind finally began to process the shocking possibility that the girl upstairs had just put into his mind.

Was she just like Tessa? Was she a shapeshifter, too?


	10. Chapter 10

The hardest part would be finding someone to Change into, and finding the opportunity to do it. Tessa had not seen a single human or Downworlder in the house other than Mortmain and the warlock he had been shouting at before; the place was crawling with clockwork automatons, and though Tessa had never tried turning into one before, she wasn't eager to find out if she had that particular skill. Just imagining her insides replaced with metal made her shudder.

And so, Tessa supposed that the warlock was her best chance. Mortmain was out of the question, as a guard of automatons constantly surrounded him, and the thought of turning into him, even briefly, filled Tessa with revulsion. Unfortunately, there were several problems with this plan.

Firstly, Tessa had no idea where the warlock's rooms were, if he even stayed in Mortmain's mansion at all. He might have fled after Mortmain's tantrum, which would have been the wisest thing to do, in Tessa's opinion. She prayed that he had been offered a reward large enough to coax him to stay.

Secondly, Tessa wasn't sure she would be able to incapacitate or distract him long enough for Mortmain to believe that she was the warlock. If he saw both of them at the same time, he would know at once what was happening, and her cover would be blown.

And lastly but perhaps the most pressing problem of all, Tessa was locked quite firmly in that dank cell, and her food was slipped to her through a one-way flap at the base of the door. She had not seen another face since she'd been locked away.

At least contemplating these things provided her with a distraction, though it was an infuriating one. Her brain chased itself in circles as she sought to come up with a solution to all of these problems. At last, after what felt like hours of brainstorming, she came up with an idea. It was a grab at air, but maybe, just maybe, it would work. What did she have to lose?

She waited until she heard the telltale footsteps of whoever brought her food coming down the stone hallway outside. She knelt on the filthy floor, and put her face close to the flap, tilting her head to the side so that when it opened, she could see out.

It swung outward with a creak, and the smell of broth—cold, most likely—wafted into Tessa's cell. It did not smell very desirable, but Tessa's stomach growled with hunger anyway.

"Excuse me," she called through the now-open flap. "Hello? Is anyone out there?"

There was a pause. Tessa could see the hem of a gray dress, the same one that the clockwork maid that had caught her escaping had worn. Her heart sank just a bit; she had already seen the lack of compassion in this automaton, not that any of the others had a sense of it either. Still, it wasn't a reassuring reunion.

"Please," she hurried on, desperate to try even though she expected the flap to be shut in her face at any moment, "I—I feel dizzy. My head is spinning and my legs are too weak to stand. I feel like I might faint." She did her best to sound convincing, making her voice fluttery and thin. She waited, holding her breath, for a response.

After a long stretch of silence, it came in the form of a flat, inflectionless voice from the other side of the door. "You are ill, miss?"

Her heart leaped. "Yes," she said quickly. "I feel feverish. My skin is burning hot but I'm shivering with cold."

Another long pause. Then, to Tessa's surprise, knees came into her view, and then a face as the automaton mimicked her position on the floor. Tessa hurriedly arranged her face into what she hoped was an ill expression even as it struck her that this was not something she had ever seen an automaton do. It was the same clockwork maid that had turned her over to Mortmain. When she looked closely, she could see gray flecks in the maid's blue eyes, a detail she was surprised Mortmain would bother with.

They stared at each other, the empty eyes of the clockwork creature scarcely blinking. And then, for just a moment, the blankness slid off the girl's face, and there was a look of great indecision in her detailed eyes.

Tessa's breath caught in her chest. "You aren't an automaton," she whispered.

Fear replaced the irresolution in the maid's expression. "Please," she said breathlessly, "don't tell a soul."

Tessa could hardly believe what she was seeing. "You…Mortmain doesn't know?"

The maid bit her lip, an irrefutably human gesture, and glanced away. Tessa took that as a confirmation.

"How have you managed to keep him from noticing?"

"I stay out of his way. I've always been fond of pretending and acting. I thought pretending to be a lifeless automaton would be simple." Her eyes stared past Tessa, who pitied her for the fear in them. "I was wrong."

Tessa looked at her, and for a moment she wanted to ask her why she had taken her to Mortmain and let her be beaten unconscious. But this was not the time for that; Tessa pushed her anger to the back of her mind and forced herself not to think of it.

"Why are you doing this?" Tessa pressed her face closer to the flap. "What's the point in pretending?"

"He has my sister," the girl whispered back. "I have to find her."

Tessa's sympathy grew. She wanted to reach out and touch the girl's arm through the hole in the door, but she didn't think the other girl would appreciate it. "You should go home," she said seriously, trying to catch the maid's eye, but she was looking everywhere but at Tessa. "Your sister…there isn't much hope for her. Mortmain doesn't keep mundanes around."

"She's alive," she hissed, eyes suddenly sparking. "I know it! If she were dead, I would be able to tell."

Tessa wasn't sure about that, but she didn't have the heart to argue further. "Please," she said, her heart beginning to pound once again. "Can you get me out of here?"

The maid's eyes flickered with uncertainty. "I would like to, miss," she murmured, "but I cannot risk showing my identity. Not when I haven't found my sister."

Tessa knew what it was like to have a sibling in an enemy's clutches. She would have stopped at nothing to get Nathaniel back. Of course, he had turned out to be a traitor all along, but that wasn't important now.

"I understand." Tessa tried to sound calm.

The girl's eyes flitted to Tessa's and then away again. "What would you have me do," she whispered, "to help you?"

Tessa tried not to feel the hope that flared in her chest. "I'm a shapeshifter," she blurted out. "I can turn into anyone as long as I have something of theirs—a scrap of clothing or hair."

The maid shook her head. "That's impossible."

"Here, I'll show you. Give me something of yours."

The girl shook her head again, harder and faster, looking alarmed. "No, that's all right. I believe you, miss."

Tessa gripped the edge of the flap with her fingers. "If you let me turn into you, just for a few minutes, until I can get out—"

"No!" The maid's voice was a horrified whisper. "Mortmain will know I'm human if he finds you out, and he'll also know that I helped you. He'll either drag me off to where he's taken the other girls, or kill me, or something equally horrible—"

"Wait," Tessa said sharply. "What other girls?"

"He's taken several from what I understand," the girl told her, eyes skittering nervously to and fro as if wary of listening ears. "I don't know why, but I know he's storing them away somewhere."

Tessa felt her muscles tense, hating the idea of young girls being locked up like she was. "Are they in the other cells?"

The maid shook her head sadly. "I've checked, miss."

Tessa would not ask the girl to borrow her identity a second time, especially when she had refused so vehemently. But Tessa could not bear to let this golden opportunity go to waste.

"Can you bring me to the warlock?" she asked, and the girl looked up uneasily. "The one that Mortmain was shouting at the other day. That's all you have to do. I'll take care of the rest from there."

The maid bit her lip again and chewed it, continuing to avoid Tessa's eyes. "I don't know, miss," she said quietly.

"Please. He's going to kill me." She said it in a matter-of-fact way that surprised even herself.

The girl closed her eyes. "I have to find my sister first. After that…after that, I will help you."

With that she pushed the broth into Tessa's cell and, without looking at her, closed the flap, shutting Tessa back in darkness.

* * *

Will leaned his elbows on the bar counter and put his face in his hands, trying to push back the beginnings of a dreadful headache. He'd come to one of his favorite pubs directly after speaking with Tessa at the Institute, feeling the strong need to douse his spinning thoughts and aching heart in alcohol. Unfortunately, it hadn't done much to make him feel better.

"You all right, mate?" a voice to his left asked. "You look a bit blue."

"My apologies," Will said, his voice a little slurred from the drinks he'd downed, "I've been trying to get more sun on my skin, but it's a difficult feat in London."

"That's not what I meant," the man said, sounding puzzled. "I meant you looked depressed is all." Will sighed; obviously this was not a man familiar with sarcasm.

"It's really not your business, is it?" Will said, rubbing his palms into his eyes.

"We've all got problems," the man continued. "Me, I been looking for my daughter for the past three days." He heaved a deep, sorrowful, tired sigh that Will did not have much sympathy for. He had enough issues of his own to deal with, and he did not have the time to listen to this stranger's woes.

"Look," he said irritably, lifting his head to look at the person sitting beside him, who turned out to be a huge, muscled man with a bushy beard and a thick scar on one cheek. He looked like the sort of man who'd gotten into more than one scuffle in his lifetime.

Before Will could go on, the man moaned and slumped against the counter. "She been kidnapped," he muttered. "Don't know how it happened, but she's gone. I was there, ya know—I was sitting right out in the hall, ready for trouble, 'cause there been rumors of kidnappings. I didn't want my little Marina to get snagged. I musta dozed off, 'cause the next thing I knew there were bangings and crashings comin' from Marina's room. By the time I broke the door down—was locked from the inside, see—she was gone."

Will was about to turn away again, but something about the story attracted his interest. He hadn't heard anything about kidnappings around the city lately, but then, he hadn't been paying much attention to mundane news.

"Put up a good fight, though," he said proudly, puffing out his huge chest. "Like a daughter of Rufus Hatter would. I gotta believe she's okay. There weren't any blood in the room, just a scatterin' of her belongings and some oil, don't know where that came from for the life of me. And—"

"Wait," Will interrupted sharply. "Did you say oil?"

Rufus Hatter blinked at him, looking startled that Will would disrupt his tale. "Aye," he said. "Didn't know Marina was into machinery and whatnot, but don't know where else that stuff would've come from."

Will narrowed his eyes in thought. He knew of one good way a kidnapping could take place and leave a mess of oil in its wake—automatons. But why would Mortmain be capturing mundane girls?

Will felt like he was on the verge of something, but his mind just couldn't grasp it. His frustration started to grow, until he wanted to punch something, anything, until his hands ached.

In fact, getting into a good fistfight sounded like a lovely way to let off some steam.

Will turned to Rufus, who was still slouched with a dejected expression on his scarred face. "Say, Mr. Hatter," he said casually. "You get into fights often?"

Rufus looked confused. "Er, not often. Sometimes a man's gotta, you can't just walk away when your honor's been insulted, or the honor of your family. But I don't like fightin' much."

"Seems like you're squandering your talent," Will observed. "You're a particularly large, hulking man. You could crack a few heads and break a few bones if you set your mind to it."

"Wouldn't want to be doing that," the other man replied, furrowing his brow. "That's causing trouble that don't need to be caused."

"What about me?" Will said, getting to his feet and spreading his arms to invitingly display his upper torso area. "If I were to offer, would you hit me right now?"

Rufus Hatter looked completely bewildered. "Why would you offer? Seems like a strange thing to do." Then he gave Will a suspicious look, as if he wasn't sure he wanted to hang around someone who was mentally unstable.

Will had not anticipated this giant to be so peace-loving. He would have to aim a little lower if he wanted to get into a decent brawl.

"I might have an answer to the question of how your daughter disappeared, Mr. Hatter," he said, and the man's eyes glimmered with hope. "Perhaps she was not kidnapped at all. Perhaps she ran off and doesn't want to be found. It's not uncommon for girls to choose the life of a prostitute when in need of a pound or two—"

Rufus stood up so fast his chair was knocked to the ground. The miserable look about his face had vanished, and he stood looming a good foot over Will, huge hands balled into fists and eyes gleaming with fury.

"Take that back, you—you—_rat!" _he bellowed.

Will chuckled, amused. "A rat, am I? I daresay you've hurt my feelings, Mr. Hatter."

With a roar that resembled that of an infuriated lion, Rufus swung at Will, who ducked, feeling the air from the punch ruffle his hair. He slammed his fist into Rufus's stomach, who barely flinched. Will did not care that this was not an even match; he did not care that he was about to be pummeled by a giant. The fight chased away the restless frustration that had been stewing in his chest for days, and it felt wonderful.

Rufus grabbed Will by the back of the neck and flung him across the room. Several other men yelled and lunged out of the way, spilling their drinks everywhere. The bartender was waving his arms and trying to break up the fight, but he was no match for Rufus's fury. Rufus swept the skinny bartender out of the way as he stalked toward Will.

Will sprang to his feet, swaying a little bit and wishing he had not had quite so much to drink. He put his fists up, unable to keep from grinning in anticipation. He tried to block Rufus's next hit but it didn't soften the blow as much as he would've liked. Pain burst from Will's jaw and he staggered back to the floor.

"If I was sober, sir," Will said from the ground as Rufus loomed over him, "I would beat you senseless."

"I'm sure you would," Rufus said, delivering another solid punch to Will's face. Blood was trickling from his nose and he was fairly sure he'd be sporting a black eye the next morning, but he didn't care.

Will dragged himself back to his feet and managed to duck the next few blows from his opponent. He observed distantly that Rufus had brute strength on his side, but he let his anger take over his movements, and he was slow. Also, he was not showing much mercy; Will was beginning to think that perhaps he should not have made the jibe about the man's daughter.

Will got in a punch at Rufus's face, a blow that was strong enough to make the other man stagger back a few steps. Will went at his stomach again, this time hitting hard enough to make Rufus double over. But when he aimed at the giant's face a second time, his hand was caught halfway to its mark.

"Nice move," Will complimented him a moment before Rufus's fist hit him squarely in the face.

Will managed to keep his feet for a few more seconds, and then he found, curiously, that he was staring up at the ceiling from the floor.

"Will?" The shocked voice was enough for Will to tilt his head backward and see a familiar face leaning over him, mouth open in a mixture of astonishment and horror.

"Hello, James," Will slurred. "He sure taught me not to insult a young lady's honor, eh?"

Jem's expression turned exasperated, and that was the last thing Will saw before he passed out.


	11. Chapter 11

When Will came to, he found himself in a small room lying on a rather thin cot with a throbbing headache. He groaned, putting his hands over his face.

"Finally awake, are you?"

He turned his head to see Jem sitting in a small wooden chair against the wall, hands resting on his cane and silver eyes looking down at him with a mixture of amusement and irritation.

"What are you doing here?" Will croaked. He was in too much pain to make a joke; perhaps that was what made some of Jem's annoyance turn to concern.

"I had to get you out of that dirty tavern before the fellow beating you to a pulp finished you off," said Jem, arching an eyebrow.

Will tried to laugh, but it sounded more like a cough. "Old Rufus never would have killed me. He just wanted to give me a nice, splitting headache to remember him by."

"Don't be so sure," Jem replied calmly. "He was about to smash a chair over your head before I stopped him."

Will was quiet for a moment, studying his friend closely. "Why _did _you stop him?" he asked, trying to sound offhand.

Jem's face grew serious. "You are my _parabatai_," he said simply. "I could not let you die."

Will struggled to sit up, ignoring the pain in his head.

"I must say, the black eye adds a certain manly charm to your face," Jem added, his mouth quirking at the corners.

Will gingerly touched his eye with his fingertips, wincing. "I don't need any more manly charm. I might cause accidents if my face gets any more beautiful."

"Why did you provoke that man into fighting you, Will?" Jem had gone back to sounding exasperated. "You knew you couldn't beat him. He was nearly twice your size."

"I am a trained fighter," said Will indignantly. "I could have taken him, if I hadn't been severely intoxicated."

"I do hope you've slept off the alcohol, because I wanted to have a decently lucid conversation with you." Jem leaned onto his cane, his eyes never leaving Will's face.

"There's nothing to discuss," Will answered, trying to straighten his rumpled shirt. "You know exactly what I'll say, and I doubt you want to hear it."

"It's not that. I…I want to hear you out, Will." Now Jem did turn his eyes down, as if ashamed. "You may be reckless and at times you don't make the best choices, but you're insightful as well, and we've both sworn to trust each other. Perhaps I've been foolish to instantly reject everything you say."

Will went very still, hardly daring to believe his ears. Jem was willing to listen to what he had to say? Would he believe him when he insisted that the Tessa living at the Institute was an imposter, or would he just argue?

He could not let this dissolve into another quarrel, Will decided. He had to go about this delicately; he didn't want to anger Jem again and have him storm off. Besides, this chance at reconciliation could be the opportunity he needed to get near the false Tessa again.

"We shouldn't talk about it here," said Will. He cast a glance around the little square room. "Where are we, anyway?"

"An acquaintance of mine saw me dragging you out of the pub and agreed to let you rest in his apartment until you had recovered."

"Ah. Thank this acquaintance for me, would you?" Will was already on his feet, blinking away the spots in his vision.

"Where do you want to talk about it, then?" said Jem impatiently. "We need to have this settled, Will. We can't go on arguing about it. One of us has to see reason." It was clear that Jem assumed Will would be the one to have his opinions changed. How wrong he was.

"Perhaps we could go back to the Institute?" Will suggested, trying to sound hesitant. Jem looked doubtful, so Will hurried on to say, "I swear to you, I won't touch a hair on Tessa's head. I honestly don't know what came over me that day."

Jem looked torn. "I can't endanger her," he murmured. "But I can't keep you out of your home." Smiling, he clasped Will's shoulder and said, "Come home, my brother."

Will smiled back. "I thought you'd never ask."

* * *

Tessa paced her cell furiously, waiting for the moment the mundane maid would return. She'd gone through a hundred different arguments in her head, but few of them seemed likely to convince the stubborn girl to help.

She wasn't sure how much time had passed, but she was aware that it had been hours since she'd last spoken to the maid. She was on edge. She wished she knew how much more time was left until the full moon; that was her deadline. If she didn't get out before then, she would be sacrificed to the demon. She had no time.

Finally, Tessa heard footsteps echoing down the stone corridor outside. She took her position in front of the flap her food came through. Just as she had expected, the food—a plate of old bread and shriveled grapes—was shoved in so hastily some of it spilled onto the filthy floor. Just as the flap started to close, Tessa stuck her hand through it and held it open.

"You can't avoid me," she called through the flap. She was fairly sure she felt someone tugging on the flap on the other side in an attempt to close it, squeezing her fingers painfully between the miniature door and the side of the hole, but she did not pull her hand back. "Please listen."

"I'm sorry, miss," said a flat voice that sounded so convincingly like an automaton that Tessa wondered for a moment if the maid had gotten one of the real clockwork creatures to take over prison duty. "Please withdraw your hand."

"At the full moon, Mortmain is going to sacrifice me," Tessa went on desperately as the person on the other side of the door tried to pry her fingers loose. She held on fast, refusing to let it close. "He's going to set a demon free that will kill…many people." She didn't know whether this girl knew about the Shadowhunter world, but she wasn't going to take any chances.

The attempts at wrenching her fingers away paused. "So that's what he's doing," Tessa heard a less mechanical voice murmur, and she was relieved that it was the same mundane girl as before. "A demon you say?"

"Yes," said Tessa eagerly, putting her face up to the crack her fingers had left between the flap and the door. "It will be catastrophic if he succeeds in freeing it."

"How is that possible?" the girl said, sounding troubled. "I have heard stories of those who can summon demons, but I thought they were only that—stories."

"They are very real. Please help me get out."

"I told you, miss, I can't help you until I've found my sister," the girl said firmly. "Please withdraw your hand."

"You're going to let him kill me?" Anger started to replace Tessa's fear. "You aren't even going to try to help me?"

"Miss—"

"All you need to do is find a way for me to get to that warlock," Tessa pleaded. "Or bring him here. I can turn into him and escape, and Mortmain need never now you were involved."

There was a long, painful pause. "If I help you escape," the girl said slowly, "will you help me find my sister?"

Tessa bit her lip. She wasn't sure that was a possibility. She would have to get out as soon as possible; she couldn't risk being caught again.

"That's what I thought." The maid's voice had gone cold and inflectionless again. "I'm sorry, miss." She heard the girl's skirts rustle as she got to her feet, and with a surge of desperation, Tessa cried out after her.

"I'll help you!"

"You will?"

"Yes. I'll find your sister."

Tessa lifted the flap all the way and peered out at the hem of the maid's dress. She stood several feet away from the door, half turned away.

"All right," she said softly. "I will bring the warlock to you."

"When?" Tessa asked, but the girl was already walking away, her movements calculated and jerky like that of a real automaton.

"Wait," Tessa called, and the maid stopped reflexively. "What's your name?"

She hesitated, and then said quietly, "Elizabeth."

Tessa felt a small smile tug the corner of her mouth up. "Thank you, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth gave her a stiff nod before hurrying out of sight.

* * *

"James," said Will, absently rubbing his sore jaw as they mounted the steps to the Institute. "Did Tessa mention me at all while I was gone?"

Jem instantly looked wary. "No. I even asked her about you, and what might have caused you to act so…" He cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"Excessively?" Will offered.

Jem smiled dryly. "I suppose that's one word for it."

"And she didn't tell you anything?" Will kept his tone carefully neutral. He wanted to know whether Tessa or Cyril had alerted Jem to his recent visit to the Institute.

"No. I think she was frightened to say anything," said Jem, an accusatory note in his voice.

"Would it be all right with you if I apologized?" Will asked, trying to look sheepish. Jem opened his mouth, probably to refuse, but Will went on before he could. "You can stand right outside the door. You can even stab me right through the heart with your seraph blade if you think the situation calls for it."

Jem, who looked a little alarmed at the prospect, nodded reluctantly. "All right, Will. But don't you dare say anything to her that might frighten her more than she already is," he threatened.

Will smiled innocently. "Wouldn't dream of it."

* * *

Jem stood outside Tessa's room with his arms crossed over his chest. He fixed Will with a stern look. "If I hear anything, I'm coming right in and hauling you back to that alleyway you've been sleeping in," he said.

Will strode past him to the door, giving him a sly grin. "Silly Jem, I haven't been sleeping in an alleyway. I've been sleeping in a gutter," he said, opening the door as silently as he could and closing it carefully behind him.

He turned to see what he thought at first was a totally empty room. Then he saw her.

She was sitting at the window, so eerily still his eyes had passed over her at first. Will realized she must not have noticed his entrance, or she would have said something. He studied her, waiting for her to say something, to move, but she didn't. It was as if she had been turned to stone.

He walked on silent feet toward her, careful not to let even his shadow enter her peripheral vision. Soon it became apparent that it didn't matter whether he was in her sight or not—she was asleep.

At least, that was what he initially thought.

He crept up to her until he stood right beside her. She didn't so much as turn her head. She had to be asleep—there was no other explanation as to how she could be oblivious to his presence. But her posture was erect, her hands folded neatly in her lap. And her eyes were wide open.

Will felt a chill travel down his spine as he looked into those gray eyes, as lifeless as metal.

That was when it clicked.

Backing away, Will kept his eyes on her until he reached the door, fumbling for the knob and nearly throwing himself out into the hall. His heart was pounding wildly in his chest and he was struggling not to gulp breaths in as if he'd spent several minutes underwater.

"How did it go?" Jem asked. "I didn't hear any shouting, so that's something."

Will waited until he had composed his expression before turning to smile at his friend. "It went beautifully," he answered smoothly. "Everything is fine. I apologized and she accepted, though she did look a bit spooked to see me."

"Which is understandable," Jem pointed out.

Will nodded, hardly concentrating on what Jem was saying. "Of course."

They walked back down the hall together, Jem talking about something or other that Will wasn't paying attention to. His thoughts were back in Tessa's room with the imposter whose eyes were so cold they could have been made of metal.

In fact, maybe her whole being was made of metal.

* * *

_Thanks so much for reading and reviewing!_


	12. Chapter 12

Will sat motionless in his room, staring at his tightly folded hands. Shortly after leaving Tessa's room, he had given Jem the excuse that he was sore and exhausted from his fight with Rufus Hatter—which was true, but not the reason he had been seeking solitude—and retreated to his bedroom. It was wonderful to be back in the Institute, in his own home; he hadn't realized just how much he'd missed it.

But there was no telling how much longer he would be staying. Not after what he had just come to realize. He knew he couldn't let this go on without doing something to stop it; even if it failed utterly, he had to at least try to make the others understand. He would not pretend that everything was normal, and that the girl sitting in the chair in a bedroom staring out the window, her eyes open but her mind shut off, was the real Tessa.

The most frustrating, desperate feeling of all was that he was running out of time. He could feel it inside of him like a fist steadily tightening around his chest; wherever Tessa was—and he was getting a fairly clear idea of who had her, at least—she wouldn't be there much longer. He squeezed his hands together, trying to restrain himself from leaping to his feet and chucking everything he owned against the walls, just to vent some of his anger.

Tessa. Will closed his eyes, trying to imagine her smile, the light in her gray eyes, things he hadn't seen for what felt like years. He struggled to recall that night by the river. He knew the imposter hadn't told him everything; there had to be more. There had to be some explanation as to why he woke up in the infirmary with no memory of what happened, with a stranger in Tessa's place.

Perhaps there was someone he could talk to. Someone who had been through enough that she might even believe him.

Will stood, glad to have something to occupy him, and left his room, directing his steps to the infirmary.

* * *

Tessa waited for Elizabeth to come back. She had no way of knowing when she would return; she had only given a vague promise of "I'll bring the warlock to you," and nothing more. Perhaps she had gotten frightened and decided not to help after all.

Tessa was absently running her fingers through her knotted, tangled hair when she heard footsteps outside her cell. Her heart jumped into her throat and she scrambled forward on all fours to the flap in the door, hope soaring in her chest. The flap opened and the smell of warm food wafted through. Tessa recognized the skirts of the maid, Elizabeth; she was about to call out to her, but instead she heard a monotone voice:

"It is not ready yet, miss." And then the footsteps retreated, the flap slamming shut in Tessa's face, before she had the chance to get out a single word.

Tessa stared at the locked door for a long time as her disappointment sank in. Elizabeth hadn't even stayed to give her any details of what she planned to do, or how she wanted Tessa to find her sister; she had just left, still in her clockwork role, leaving Tessa with nothing but frustration and despair. She must have meant that she had not been able to get the warlock to her cell...but what if that meant she wasn't even trying?

Tessa slowly scooted backward into the corner of the cell, leaning back into the wall and rubbing her cold arms to warm them. Ever since she had come up with the plan to turn into the warlock and escape, she had felt stronger, riding on hope and determination. But now that everything rested on the actions of one potentially untrustworthy fake-automaton, all of the fight was draining out of her swiftly. If Elizabeth went back on their deal now, it would be over. Mortmain would sacrifice her to the demon at the full moon, which could be only days away if any at all, and everything would be lost.

* * *

Mortmain wrung his hands together nervously, hovering at the top of the stairs that led down to the dim basement below. He had steered clear of the room ever since Cruor had nearly collapsed the house with its temper tantrum upon learning that the ceremony had to be performed at the full moon. Mortmain was terrified that the moment he stepped into the basement, Cruor would finish the job and bring the ceiling down on his head.

But leaving the demon down there to stew and build its hatred for its current captor would not help matters. Mortmain knew that Cruor hated all human beings, including him; he was certain that setting the beast free would put Cruor in his debt. Oh yes, he had many plans for this demon, and leaving it in the basement to rot was not one of them.

Mortmain took a deep breath, braced himself, and descended the stairs. His hands shook and a cold sweat broke across his forehead, but he tried to look confident and calm as he stepped into the halfway-destroyed room that held a hulking monster in its center.

Cruor was just a massive bulge in the middle of the room, its tattered wings covering its hideous head. Mortmain hesitated outside the pentagram, giving it a wide berth in case Cruor could send a spurt of flame at him from across the magic boundary of its cage. Stones from the partly collapsed ceiling were scattered around the pentagram, a reminder of just the kind of damage Cruor was capable of, even when locked up.

Its deep, rough, otherworldly voice spoke from the folds of its wings, never failing to send a shudder down Mortmain's spine. "I can smell you, human. Speak, unless you've come only to gawk."

Mortmain cleared his throat and straightened. "I wanted to tell you that the full moon is in three days. You will not have to wait much longer." A wing shifted to reveal one pure black eye, staring balefully at Mortmain as if it did not believe him. "I speak the truth," Mortmain insisted. "Tessa's soul will be yours in three days' time, I swear it."

For a long moment, the demon did nothing but look at him. Then it folded its wing back over its eye and rumbled, "It had better, or you will be the one whose soul I devour, human."

Mortmain left the basement quickly, his face white and his legs trembling. He had no reason to be afraid, of course; even if Tessa's soul was not pure enough to break the seals the Shadowhunters had laid upon Cruor, he had plenty of other young girls to sacrifice. He needn't fear for his own life. He would set this demon free, no matter what it took, and his own soul would belong to him and him alone.

* * *

Will slipped into the infirmary and shut the door soundlessly, not entirely sure he was allowed to be there. The light was dim, the curtains drawn across most of the windows to give the single patient a little darkness. He could see her now, lying on her back in the bed several rows down. He could not see from where he stood whether she was asleep or not; either way, he would speak to her. He needed to hear her account of what had happened.

He strode over to Sophie's bed and looked down at her, at the scar that marred her otherwise beautiful face. He had never gotten on well with the maid, and when she was asleep, her expression smooth and peaceful, it was hard to remember why. He antagonized everyone, of course, but they had always had a special amount of animosity toward one another.

It was hard to remember, that is, until she opened her eyes, saw him, and fixed him with a sour scowl.

"What do you want?" she asked, her voice hoarse from lack of use. There were bandages wrapped around her head, a sign of her head injury, but her eyes were clear and sharp and, most of all, suspicious. "I thought you were thrown out." As an afterthought and with a slight blush, she added, "Master Will."

"Lovely to see you, too, dear Sophie," Will said. He sat down at the chair beside her bed, leaning back and making himself comfortable. "I have something to ask you."

"Did Mrs. Branwell tell you to come and interrogate me again?" Her voice was slighlty bitter, and she stared fiercely at the ceiling, avoiding his eye.

Will's interest spiked and he leaned toward her. "Interrogate? What do you mean?"

"Why are you here, Master Will?" she demanded instead of answering. "You _were _thrown out, weren't you?"

"Yes," Will said, doing his best to remain calm. "But I—er—ran into Jem on the street, and we sorted things out. Now I'm back. I know how much you missed me," he added, smirking as she snorted.

"Are you here to ask me more questions about what happened?" Sophie asked, her voice quieting. "It's useless, you know. I don't remember anything."

Will was silent for a moment, studying her face, how she kept her eyes away from him and fiddled with the bed sheets. There was one thing apparent to him here—she was lying.

"Charlotte didn't tell me to come here," he said. "I came because _I _want to know what happened to you. And I know you remember, so don't give me any of that forgeting rubbish."

Sophie sighed and shut her eyes. "Please, Will. Don't put me through this. You won't believe me anyway, and I'd rather avoid the part where everyone in the Institute looks at me like I've lost my mind."

"You haven't even told Gideon? You know he'd never look at you like that," Will told her before she could protest. "He's too busy looking at you with goo-goo eyes." He wrinkled his nose at her, but her expression remained morose.

"You won't believe me. Everyone has already decided that it was an automaton." Her eyes grew panicked, as if she worried she'd said too much. "I'm sure it was," she added quickly. "There's really no other explanation, is there?"

"You mean no other explanation besides an automaton sneaking past everyone in the Institute, managing to get into Tessa's room without her noticing, having a nice little conversation with you, beating you over the head, and then jumping out the window and somehow surviving the fall intact? Seems a little far-fetched, don't you think?"

Sophie looked at him with wide, half hopeful eyes. "You mean you don't think…"

"No," said Will grimly. "I think I know exactly who clubbed you over the head, Sophie. You just need to confirm it for me, so I don't make a fool of myself and end up in a penitentiary somewhere."

Sophie took a deep breath, fisting her hands in her blanket, and said in a rush, "It was Miss Tessa. I know that doesn't sound reasonable, but it's true. She didn't look herself, so I asked her what was wrong, and she looked at me with the most horrible, blank eyes, took a swing at me, and that's the last thing I remember."

Will inhaled sharply. "What did she use to hit you with, Sophie? Did she have a weapon?"

Sophie shook her head helplessly. "I have no idea. I wasn't paying enough attention to look."

Will cursed under his breath. The weapon used to attack Sophie might have been useful in proving to the others that the Tessa that was currently up in her room was not the real Tessa at all.

"It's all right. I'll find it," he promised.

"You'd better hurry," she said with a slightly bitter laugh. "Everyone has been looking at me like I'm a stranger lately. I think they think I've been conspiring with Mortmain. Miss Tessa's story certainly made it out to seem like I was friendly with the automaton—they've all seemed to forget that the brute also supposedly knocked me out right after our little chat. In my opinion, the story makes no sense whatsoever, but who would disbelieve Miss Tessa?"

He hated the imposter Tessa even more, now that he realized she had carefully edged Sophie into the rest of the Institute's suspicions, taking the attention off of herself. If he let this continue, who knew what might happen to Sophie if Tessa continued spreading rumors about her?

"Master Will," said Sophie hesitantly. "Why did Miss Tessa do all this? It certainly isn't like her…"

"That isn't Tessa," said Will, and he felt a great sense of relief as Sophie's eyes widened in shock, but not disbelief. Finally, here was someone who believed him.

"Then who is it?" she asked in a hushed voice.

"I can't prove it yet, but I'm starting to get an idea." He rose to his feet. "Don't worry about a thing, Sophie. I'll take care of everything. You just rest that delicate little head of yours."

He turned away from Sophie's glower and walked quickly out the doors of the infirmary, his thoughts racing. Now that he had a confirmation, he could test his suspicions. He could only think of one way to do it, and it filled him with dread; if he did it just right, he would convince the rest of the Institute, without a doubt, that this was not Theresa Gray.

If he did it wrong, however, he was certain that he would lose everything—his Shadowhunter status, his home, and his family. And Tessa would be lost to him forever.

* * *

_Thanks for reading and reviewing! You guys are the best! _


	13. Chapter 13

The next morning, Tessa woke up with a cold feeling of dread in her stomach, the feeling she used to get when she was a captive of the Dark Sisters and they used to force her to change into other people. She wasn't quite sure where the feeling had come from; she hoped it was some sort of premonition of what was to come today, a reassurance that she would get her chance to shift into the warlock.

She hoped that it had nothing to do with the approach of the full moon. She only wished she knew when it would come, in exact time.

Tessa pressed herself into the corner of the cell and stared at the door, a routine she had fallen into in just a matter of days. She didn't bother crouching outside the flap anymore; when Elizabeth delivered her meals, she did so silently, without answering any of Tessa's whispered questions. It was as if she'd been turned into a real automaton overnight.

Tessa knew there had to be a logical explanation for the maid's silence. Perhaps she had Mortmain keeping a close eye on her, after noticing something off about her behavior, or perhaps she didn't see the sense in talking when there was nothing to say. But it still put Tessa on edge and made her endlessly irritated with Elizabeth, who didn't seem to mind the power over Tessa's life that had fallen into her lap.

The familiar sound of footsteps walking down the stone corridor reached Tessa's ears. She wouldn't have paid it any mind—she rarely even picked at the meals Elizabeth shoved through the flap now—except that her ears picked up the unmistakable sound of a second pair of feet walking alongside the first.

She turned her head toward the door, her heartbeat beginning to race. She leaned forward, straining to pick up the sound of voices, hardly daring to hope—

"I say," a male voice, young and whiny and rather contemptuous, "must you walk so quickly? Ah, but this place is disgusting! What sort of prisoners does he keep down here, anyhow? I don't suppose it's anyone interesting?"

"This way, sir," Elizabeth's flat, inflectionless voice replied. Tessa realized she was holding her breath, and she struggled to get her lungs working again. Her mind could barely process the only explanation for the voices outside her prison cell.

_Elizabeth had brought her the warlock._

"What am I supposed to do to this prisoner?" the warlock demanded impatiently. "Won't you answer any of my questions?"

"An enchantment," Elizabeth answered distantly. "The prisoner is being difficult."

The warlock spoke again in a pouting voice. "I still haven't gotten my payment for summoning that wretched demon. I don't see why I should owe Mortmain any more favors."

"If you'll unlock the door please, Master Saige. Master Mortmain has the only set of keys." At first Tessa couldn't imagine the warlock falling for it; surely he would see that something was wrong, and get out of there before it was too late for him. But there was no hesitation as the warlock muttered an incantation and the lock slid free. The door swung open and Tessa had to actually squint her eyes against the faint torchlight that spilled into the tiny stone room.

She could see the silhouettes of the warlock and Elizabeth looming in the threshold. The warlock was still jabbering on, saying in a fairly repulsed voice, "It does smell ghastly in here, doesn't it? Mortmain certainly isn't very hospitable to his prisoners, though I suppose that's only to be expected—"

"Theresa Gray," Elizabeth interrupted in an impressively mechanical voice, her eyes blank and seeming to stare straight through Tessa, who struggled to her feet on stiff legs. "Please step forward so that Master Saige may finish his business."

"I'm weak," Tessa replied in the shakiest voice she could muster. "I don't think I can make it that far."

"Oh, for goodness sake," the warlock said impatiently, striding into the cell and wrinkling his nose as he looked around. His hands were clawed, Tessa noticed; his warlock's mark. His eyes narrowed as they fell upon her, as if he had spotted a particularly filthy rat. "Why in the name would Mortmain want anything to do with this urchin?"

Tessa struggled not to bristle at his words, instead aiming for looking meek and exhausted.

"Do whatever you wish," she said wearily. She bowed her head submissively.

The warlock gave a great sigh that made Tessa prickle with irritation. "I don't see the necessity of a willingness enchantment. This girl has been broken like an old mare. Let Mortmain handle her himself."

Tessa understood her mistake, and in a flash, she changed tactics. Her head snapped up and she fixed him with a glare that seemed to startle him. "You would say that," she said coolly, "being unable to cast any working enchantment, yourself."

Even in the dim light, she could see his cheeks turn red. "Pardon?" he sputtered.

"You are no warlock. I would wager that that summoning was pure luck. You didn't really have anything to do with it, did you?" She drew herself up taller, pinning him to the floor with her gaze. "And now you can't even lay a simple willingness curse on a girl. I've seen mundanes that can do better magic than you." She barked a laugh, hearing how fake it sounded, but he was too furious to notice.

"You little," he spluttered, seemingly unable to come up with an acceptable word to finish the sentence. He pointed one clawed hand at her in a rather theatrical manner, and Tessa seized her chance.

She reached out and grabbed his wrist, taking him completely by surprise. She released him only a moment later, though, with his lovely golden ring enclosed in her fist.

The warlock didn't seem to realize the absence of his jewelry. He fixed Tessa with a suspicious, baleful glare, his mouth still open as he prepared to recite his incantation.

Tessa locked eyes with him for a moment longer before closing her eyes, focusing on the ring, and letting the changes overcome her body.

She had never liked Changing. Even though it was much better than it had been initially, it still pained her, made her feel as if her bones were being melded into a different shape. She was not partial to turning male, either; it was one of the strangest and most unpleasant sensations. She clenched her jaw, careful not to make any noise, hunching over as Tessa Gray melted away and was replaced by a clawed warlock.

"What the devil—" She opened her eyes to see the warlock stumbling way from her, his back hitting the wall of the cell. He stared at her in absolute horror, his eyes flicking over her from head to toe, trying to comprehend what he was seeing.

"You look pale, Master Saige," Elizabeth's monotonous voice said. "Why don't you lie down?" And she struck him over the head with the end of the torch she had grabbed from the bracket in the wall.

The warlock's eyes rolled back in his head and he crumpled to the ground like a felled tree.

For a moment Tessa and Elizabeth stared at his unconscious form, before looking up to meet each other's eyes. The maid no longer looked like an automaton, but human; she looked unsteady as she took Tessa's new form in.

"That is…quite unusual," she said faintly.

"Hurry," said Tessa in a voice that wasn't her own. "We don't have much time."

Elizabeth's hand shot out, despite her evident uneasiness about Tessa's changed appearance, and wrapped around her wrist. Her blue-gray eyes blazed as she all but growled, "You swore you'd help me find my sister first."

For the briefest of moments, Tessa wanted to tell her that the deal was off, and that she hadn't the time to go trekking about Mortmain's hideout, searching for this maid's sister.

Immediately afterward, though, she felt awful for even considering it. "Of course," she said softly. "I'll help you."

Elizabeth's grip on Tessa's arm loosened, and Tessa heard her take a breath. "Where should we start?"

Tessa only shook her head helplessly. She had no idea where Mortmain would be keeping a young girl; she didn't even know whether Elizabeth's sister was still alive or not, though she suspected it would do no good to point that out now.

"Let's look in the other cells first," Tessa finally decided, interrupting Elizabeth before she could protest that she had already gone through them all. "It can never hurt to double check."

They stepped out of the cell—Tessa felt as if it had been decades since she'd been outside of it—and closed it carefully again, locking the unconscious warlock inside. Hopefully he would stay out a while before causing a raucous and drawing attention to the fact that Tessa had escaped.

All the more reason to get out now, Tessa thought, but she knew she couldn't abandon Elizabeth to search for her sister alone, especially after what she had just done for her.

"Let's start looking," she said.

* * *

Will sat hunched over the cluttered desk in his room, staring sightlessly at the wall as he turned the long, slender object over and over in his hands. He felt sick at the prospect of what he was about to do; he could sense the disaster just over the horizon, waiting to pounce the moment he put his plan to action.

But he couldn't let this go on. He had no way of finding Tessa without the help of the others, and aside from that, he simply couldn't bear the way they treated the imposter, as if she were no different from how she'd always been. Perhaps it was not that he needed their help, but that he needed their trust, their faith, in him, and in Tessa.

_Please be all right, Tessa, _he thought, sliding his finger lightly along the edge of the object in his hands. As it always did when he didn't keep it under control, his imagination began to paint images of what might be happening to her right now, as he sat there staring at the wall, immobile and useless. He pictured Mortmain stepping out of the shadows, reaching for her, her screams that no one was around to hear—

Will shook his head sharply and stood up, knocking his chair over with his abruptness. There was no more wasting time. He had made his decision, and he couldn't go back on it now. The others had made it perfectly clear that they would not believe him until they had cold, hard evidence sitting in front of their eyes.

Will shut his eyes briefly before blinking them open again and taking a look around his bedroom, perhaps the last time he would ever see it, for if he failed now, he knew that he would never be welcomed into his home again.

Heart pounding a quick rhythm in his chest, Will tightened his hold on the knife and pushed his way out the door.

* * *

_Thanks for reading and reviewing!_


	14. Chapter 14

Tessa felt it was safe to say that being inside the body of a warlock was not very comfortable. She kept scratching herself with her taloned hands, and she could feel an odd thrumming sensation going through her veins like blood; she was fairly sure it was the presence of magic. This was a strong warlock, whoever he was.

But she had no choice but to stay locked inside the confines of his form. Every automaton that passed her paid her no notice; the ones that had been built more intricately with attention to manners even nodded at her or murmured a, "Good day, Master Saige." Tessa stumbled back replies until Elizabeth hissed at her to stay quiet and not make eye contact.

Tessa was getting increasingly frustrated with the maid, who was walking restlessly from room to room, insisting on a thorough search of every closet they came across. There was no method to her searching, and that was positively infuriating to Tessa. If she was just going to dart around like an angry spider anyway, why couldn't she do it without Tessa?

Tessa almost bumped into Elizabeth as the girl froze suddenly, her eyes wide and her hand resting limply on the doorknob of the closet she'd just explored. "Of course," she breathed, her eyes flicking to Tessa's. "The basement."

Tessa felt her heart drop. "What about it?"

"That's where he's keeping her," Elizabeth said eagerly. "Don't you see? It's the only explanation! I've checked the entire house from top to bottom, but I've never managed to get down into the basement. But _you _can get us in, can't you?"

"Me?" Tessa stammered, backing away from the intensity of Elizabeth's gaze. "I don't see how…"

"You're a warlock, aren't you?" she said impatiently, and Tessa wondered bitterly if she were simply talking about the form she'd taken or of her own self. "And Mortmain won't think it strange if he catches you going down there. Master Saige did raise the demon, after all."

"I don't think going down there is such a good idea," Tessa said, and the excitement in Elizabeth's eyes instantly died.

"I see," she said stiffly. "You're going back on your word, then?"

"I never said that!"

"If you aren't going to help me get into that basement, then you aren't going to help me find my sister. It's as simple as that." Elizabeth spun around and started down the hall. Tessa couldn't help but notice how human she looked with her eyes bright with anger and her hands balled into fists. If someone were to see her in that state…

"Wait," Tessa called, and by the way Elizabeth immediately halted, it was clear she had been waiting for Tessa to stop her. Tessa bit her lip, warring with her self-preservation instincts and wanting to help out the girl who had, after all, gotten her out of that horrid cell. "I'll help you get into the basement," she said.

"Brilliant!" Elizabeth cried, her voice too loud in the long hallway. She grabbed Tessa's arm, a rather forward thing to do in her opinion, and began towing her in the direction of the stairs.

It occurred to Tessa that searching through the closets and rooms before now had only been a pretense. Elizabeth had wanted to go down to the basement all along. Tessa couldn't figure out for the life of her why the other girl would wait so long to ask; had she been afraid Tessa would refuse and had only just now gained the courage to ask?

It was no use wondering about it now. Tessa let Elizabeth pull her toward the basement, her feet longing to carry her as far away from their destination as she could get. She shuddered to imagine being in the presence of the demon again, but if Elizabeth believed her sister to be down there, she had no choice.

* * *

Will sat rigidly in his seat at the dining room table, his eyes fixed on his plate. He could sense Jem casting him concerned looks, but he paid his friend no mind. Every muscle in his body was wound taut with tension; he was wildly casting his thoughts around for anything that might distract him from what he was about to do, but nothing seemed to work. There was no escaping that his entire future rested on the next few minutes.

"Is Tessa going to be joining us, James?" Charlotte asked, her tiny hands folded primly in her lap. Beside her, Henry was eyeing the plates in the center of the table, piled with food, looking ravenous. Charlotte had already made it perfectly clear that they would not begin until everyone was present, but Henry seemed to be having quite a bit of trouble upholding that rule.

"Yes, she should be down shortly," said Jem with a smile that was small but radiant, as if the very thought of seeing Tessa's face filled him with joy. Will's stomach twisted. He knew that feeling well, and he missed it desperately; all he felt when he saw Tessa's face now was hatred and mistrust. But hopefully, that would change. Soon, he would have his Tessa back.

"I do hope she hurries," Charlotte remarked, and Henry looked as if he fervently agreed with her.

The door to the dining room opened and Will sat bolt upright, his hand curling around the hilt of the knife hidden in his pocket.

It was not Tessa that stood uncertainly in the doorway, but Sophie.

She looked tired and pale, yet there she was, looking as if she was expecting the others to jump up with torches and pitchforks and yell for her blood.

Charlotte gave Sophie a brittle smile, lacking all of the usual warmth and affection. "Good evening, Sophie," she said. "Is there something you needed?"

Sophie hesitated, looking around at all of their faces. Will realized that everyone seemed to be avoiding her eyes. Henry was staring even more intently at the food, while Jem stared awkwardly at his plate. But it was Gideon who seemed to have the worst effect on Sophie. He stared straight ahead without expression, appearing almost bored.

Will watched as Sophie's face crumpled briefly with pain before she composed herself, murmured, "Nothing, miss," bowed slightly, and quickly left the room.

Will's insides burned with anger. He glared daggers at Gideon, who seemed to be studiously ignoring everyone. What right did he have to treat Sophie that way?

The whole scene had painted quite a picture for Will. He now understood what Sophie had been afraid of. It was as if everyone now believed that she was a spy for Mortmain, just because of some silly story Tessa had fed them. Even Gideon, who had just pushed his chair back sharply and curtly excused himself, rushing out of the room as if it were on fire, didn't trust her any longer, even though it appeared to hurt him.

Before long, Charlotte would be asking Sophie to leave. _It won't be the first time she's kicked someone out of the Institute, _he thought bitterly.

The door opened a second time, and this time it wasn't Sophie.

Tessa stepped into the room, wearing a lovely blue dress and an even lovelier smile. For a moment Will had to catch his breath; she looked so much like his Tessa that he almost could have believed that the past few weeks had been a nightmare, and nothing more. But when she turned her eyes on him, he could see how empty they were, and how she seemed to gloat at him with just a look.

Will stood up so quickly that everyone looked at him, startled.

"Please, Will," Tessa said in a tone that was slightly mocking. "There's no need to stand, but I do appreciate your efforts."

"Actually, I have something to say," Will said. He glanced at Jem, who was staring at him curiously, without a single inkling of what was about to happen.

Will cleared his throat. "I believe you're all aware that I haven't been quite myself lately, and I apologize for that. I know I don't apologize often, but I have acted horrendously, and I think that even a Herondale should be held accountable for his own behavior, no matter how ordinarily perfect and ruggedly good-looking he is." He heard Jem snort softly beside him.

"That's quite all right, Will," said Charlotte, looking faintly touched by his performance. "We're happy to have you back."

"I'm not finished," he told her, holding up a hand. "I also want to apologize for what I'm about to do. I hope you don't have me arrested for this."

And with that Will leaped across the table, sending plates crashing to the floor, and launched himself at Tessa. He heard Charlotte scream and Henry curse, but it sounded as if it was coming from very far away. He had the knife out of his pocket in less than a second; it had all gone just as he had planned. Very quickly, without giving the imposter Tessa a chance to gather her thoughts or suspect at what he was about to do.

Her gray eyes widened as he came nearer, though he wasn't sure if it was with genuine shock, or if she was still acting, even to the very end.

_"Will!"_ Hearing Jem's horrified voice almost stopped Will in his tracks, but he forced himself to keep going. _He'll understand soon. _

He put his Shadowhunter reflexes into action and was across the room in only a heartbeat. The knife shot out like lightning, its tip gleaming in the witchlight, eager to tear into flesh and expose Tessa for what she really—

A pair of arms wrapped around Will's chest from behind and hauled him backward. Jem's breath labored in his ear as Will struggled desperately to get away, knife slashing at air as Tessa looked at him with emotionless eyes, a small smile curling her lips.

Despair hit Will like a rock to the stomach. Jem dragged him with frantic force, using all his strength to get Will away from the girl he thought he loved. He had been so close to exposing her. So close to getting the real Tessa back. All he'd had to do was cut her.

And he had failed.

A sudden surge of desperation chased the despair away. Using all his strength, Will shoved Jem away from him and, without missing a beat, turned and punched him in the jaw. He had no time to feel remorse for turning on his own _parabatai. _He spun around to face a frozen Tessa, gripped his knife, and lunged.

* * *

Tessa had no idea whether she could use her new body's powers for her own devices, but when she touched the knob that led to the basement, the previously locked door swung open instantly. Elizabeth was shaking with anticipation beside her; Tessa could feel tension and hope coming off her in waves.

Tessa wanted to say something, to warn Elizabeth that there was a good chance her sister wouldn't be down there at all, but she didn't think it would do any good. So she took a deep breath, said, "I suppose we should go down now," and led the way down the staircase into the darkness below.

Elizabeth's breathing was loud behind her. Tessa had to put one hand against the wall to guide her. Had it always been so dark? She had been blindfolded the first time she'd come down here, so she had no way of knowing.

Soon, more breathing joined Elizabeth's, louder and raspy, sounding like knives being dragged over glass. Tessa shuddered at the sound and at the reek that had just slammed into her like a brick wall.

"What is that?" Elizabeth muttered. Tessa didn't bother replying. She would see soon enough.

The stairs ended, and Tessa found herself in a room that looked much different from the last time she'd seen it. Much of the ceiling was scattered on the floor, making an odd ring around the glowing pentagram in the center of the room that held the hulking monster.

Its head was tucked under its wing, and it appeared to be sleeping, but Tessa stood perfectly still and held her breath just in case.

She heard Elizabeth gasp as the other girl reached the bottom of the stairs and took in the scene before them. Her eyes were huge and her hands clutched each other. She looked afraid, and…awed.

"So that's what a demon looks like," she breathed. "It's horrible."

Tessa nodded in silent agreement. "Let's take a look around," she whispered as quietly as she could. Elizabeth nodded and they split up, each going a different way around the pentagram. Tessa picked her way over the debris, wishing Cruor hadn't thrown that massive temper and brought all of it down in the first place.

Her heart was thudding in her throat as she passed the sleeping demon. Its stench threatened to choke her, and its ragged breathing sent chills down her back. Why, oh why had she agreed to come down here? It had been a huge mistake.

She saw Elizabeth reach the back of the room and stop in front of a door that blended in with the wall. Only a protruding doorknob and faint cracks around the edges gave its presence away. Tessa moved to join her, but her foot kicked a piece of ceiling and she froze, her eyes flitting to Cruor, who grumbled and stirred.

Several things happened at once then.

Elizabeth opened the door and started to scream. Cruor's black eyes flashed open and it reared to its full height as if it had been awake all along. Tessa raced past the pentagram, stumbling over the mounds of debris in her way, until she reached Elizabeth's side, seizing her arm and prepared to haul her back to the staircase.

But then her eyes fell onto the contents of the closet, and she had to choke back a scream of her own.

The closet was full of the bodies of at least a dozen dead girls.

* * *

_Thanks for reading, everyone! And thanks for all your encouragement! _


	15. Chapter 15

_Gah, it's been so long since I've updated! So sorry! I was on vacation all of last week, and... yeah, I don't want to hear excuses either. I'll just get on with the chapter._

Time seemed to slow down for Will. He wasn't sure if he was hearing the shouts of the others or if it was simply his heartbeat pounding in his ears. Tessa's triumphant little smile had not even completely slid off her face before Will reached her.

He grabbed her arm and jerked it outward. With the neat precision of a skilled Shadowhunter, he slid his knife along her flesh.

Tessa was too shocked to feign pain. She stared at Will, her eyes flat and emotionless, and he wondered if automatons could go into shock.

He stared back at her, challenging her, squeezing her wrist with enough force to snap the bone—if she had been anything remotely human.

He heard a scream and automatically glanced over to see that Sophie had reentered the room and was staring at Tessa's arm, her hands pressed over her mouth and her eyes as round as saucers.

Will looked down, too. From Tessa's wrist all the way to her elbow was a long gash, but there was no blood flowing from it. The skin was peeled back like paper, revealing glittering machinery and turning gears.

For a long moment, dead silence filled the room.

Then chaos exploded.

* * *

Tessa stood rigid, staring down at the bodies as her mind struggled to process what she was seeing. She was distantly aware of Cruor moving in its pentagram, growing low in its throat, and Elizabeth's sobbing. She also knew, dimly, that they had to leave, that the commotion would draw Mortmain and they would be discovered.

Tessa turned mechanically to see that Elizabeth's legs had given out. She knelt on the ground, her arms wrapped tightly around her stomach, her face white as a sheet. Tessa could see her shuddering violently. It was no surprise that this girl had probably never seen a dead body. But if she could face something as gruesome as Cruor without blinking an eyelash, why should this affect her so—

The truth hit Tessa like a blow to the face. She forced herself to move closer to the maid, who seemed on the brink of fainting. She knelt slowly beside Elizabeth, who buried her face in her hands as if to hide from the truth. Tessa took the other girl's wrists, prying her fingers away. She kept her eyes squeezed shut.

"Elizabeth," Tessa said quietly. "Have we found your sister?"

Elizabeth let out a wail and crumpled forward. Tessa grabbed her by the shoulders, holding her up. She tried to make sense of the sounds that were coming out of Elizabeth's mouth, and after a few moments she thought she heard her choking out a name.

"Helena," she sobbed. "Helena."

Tessa forced herself to look over at the closet, at the sightless eyes of the girls, the blood that stained their dresses. One of them was Elizabeth's sister, gone forever from this world. Why would Mortmain kill them? Was he really that evil and cold-blooded? Had he done it for sport?

"They have sustained me." Cruor's grotesque voice was like dragging fingernails along a chalkboard. It sent chills all the way down Tessa's spine and made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. She stared at the wall as Elizabeth, who had gone silent the moment Cruor spoke, trembled against her. She did not want to look into those black eyes and see the amusement that was so plain in the demon's voice.

"I must be fed if I am to stay in your world," Cruor rumbled. "These girls were mere morsels, simply to keep me alive until I am set free to roam as I please."

Tessa bit back the things she wanted to scream at the monster. Nothing she said would matter; it would only give her away.

"Tell me," Cruor purred, its rancid breath stealing over Tessa and giving her the urge to gag. "Why would the very warlock that summoned me be so shocked at this discovery? Surely you knew what was going on?"

Tessa clenched her jaw and shut her eyes, trying to block out the demon's voice and push away the despair it trickled into her like rainwater.

"I am no fool," Cruor growled, the amusement abruptly vanishing from its tone. "Do you think that I am blind? I can see through your disguise as easily as if it were made of water, Theresa Gray."

Tessa despised hearing her name coming from Cruor's mouth. She whipped around, standing in one fluid motion. Elizabeth curled onto her side, crying silently, and Tessa stepped in front of her.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she said in as even a voice as she could manage.

Cruor's bottomless eyes flashed. "If there is one thing that is the most pathetic about humans," it growled, "it is their complete inability to lie."

Cruor threw back its head and roared. The sound seemed to ease its way into Tessa's bones and reverberate through her body. She stumbled backward, her head spinning, as pain exploded over her skin, _inside _of her, everywhere. She caught sight of her hand and watched as the talons shrunk back to normal size, her skin becoming smudged and scratched and her own once again.

Tessa leaned against the wall for support as the pain ebbed away, trying to steady her heartbeat. Fear was beginning to seep through her. This demon had just forced her back into her own form. Its power was tremendous, ultimate, dangerous.

Mortmain had no true idea of what he was unleashing upon the world. Of that, Tessa was certain.

"The full moon rises tonight," Cruor hissed, its head weaving hypnotically back and forth. "The time has come for me to be set free."

The door at the top of the stairs banged open and Mortmain raced down them, stumbling over the last step. Three automatons marched down the stairs after him, mostly featureless but huge in size; meant for brute force alone. His eyes searched the room wildly, and Tessa could see the panic in his face. He had discovered she was missing, and he knew what that would mean for him. If he lost Cruor's sacrifice, there would be no escaping the demon's wrath.

His eyes fell upon Tessa and bulged. "You," he snarled, storming around the pentagram in the center of the room. "I should wring your neck, you little wretch—"

"The time is now, human." Cruor's voice seemed to grow louder and stronger. Its tail thrashed from side to side and its wings strained against the confinement of the pentagram. "Prepare the ceremony."

Mortmain didn't take his eyes off of Tessa. "With pleasure," he said through gritted teeth. He jerked his head at his automatons, and as one they started forward. Tessa tried to dart away from their reaching hands, but it was no use. One of them grabbed her by the hair and hauled her back, not resonding to her cry of pain. Two of the automatons grabbed her arms, their fingers working as manacles. She struggled against them, throwing wild kicks at their shins, but each blow glanced off their metal skin uselessly. The third automaton yanked Elizabeth to her feet, and Tessa felt a wave of dismay. Elizabeth's time was up; there was no mistaking that she was human now. The automaton seemed to support all of her weight as she continued to cry her sister's name.

Mortmain unwound a length of rope from around his wrist, his eyes cold. He tossed the coil to one of the automatons. "Tie them up. I'll deal with the maid later."

He turned on his heel and marched away to prepare for the ceremony. Tessa felt numb. After everything they'd done, they were still going to die. Tessa was going to be used to unleash one of the most terrible demons in existence, and Elizabeth was going to die needlessly, just because she had come in search of her sister, who had been ripped mercilessly away from her for the sake of sustaining Cruor.

Hope flitted out of Tessa's reach like a bird, growing smaller and fainter until it had vanished completely into the distance.

* * *

Will flinched at the noise that erupted around the room. Sophie was screaming things that he couldn't understand. Henry was crowding forward, shouting exuberantly that it was a miracle, and could he take Tessa down to his workshop to perform some experiments? Charlotte, who was whiter than Will had ever seen her, had slowly lowered herself into a chair, looking ill. Gideon had raced back into the room upon hearing the shouting, and now swore loudly.

And Jem stood a few feet away, right where he'd stopped when Will had cut Tessa with the knife, his silver eyes fixed on the mechanical arm of the girl he thought he'd loved. The expression on his face scared Will more than any of the others' did; it was as blank as if he were an automaton, too.

"Quiet," Charlotte rasped, her voice low and haggard. When the noise continued, she had to raise her voice to a shout. "_Quiet!" _

Silence fell, and everyone looked to Charlotte, begging her to explain. Will didn't dare loosen his grip on Tessa or even take his eyes off her. Her gaze stared past him, dark and flat, as if she had suddenly been deactivated.

"Will." Charlotte closed her eyes. "Explain this to us."

Will took a breath and began. He told them about how he had seen Tessa standing over Sophie when they found her unconscious, about the conversations they'd had and how she had promised to tell him what had happened to the real Tessa if he kept her secret. He even told them about his brawl with Rufus at the pub and how he had mentioned his missing daughter, causing Will to wonder that if she had been abducted, could the same have happened to Tessa? He described how he had found her sleeping with her eyes open, lifeless, and come to the conclusion that she wasn't human.

His story was greeted with silence.

Finally, Jem broke it. "Where's the real Tessa, then?" His voice was so soft Will almost couldn't hear him, but it was filled with intensity. His eyes were fixed on the wall, still horribly devoid of any sort of feeling.

Will unconsciously squeezed the clockwork Tessa's wrist. "With Mortmain, I would assume."

He saw Jem's jaw tighten. "We have to get her back."

Will nodded. "Now. She might not have much time—"

"Fools," clockwork Tessa suddenly said. Everyone's heads whipped around to look at her. Her face was still blank, and her voice sounded different. Harsh, metallic, completely inhuman. "You are already too late."

"What are you talking about?" Will and Jem said at the same time.

"Your shapeshifter has already run out of time. Cruor will be free tonight," she said, and then crumpled to the ground as if something had forcefully knocked her over. Will let go of her wrist and the exposed metal in her arm clattered as it hit the ground.

"I must take her apart," Henry declared, starting forward and unflinchingly gathering the lifeless automaton in his arms. Will could hardly bear to see Tessa like that, small and limp in Henry's arms, even though it was quite obvious that it was not her at all.

"We have to go," said Jem, already starting toward the doors.

"No." Charlotte's sharp voice stopped Jem in his tracks. "No one is going anywhere."

"Charlotte," Will said, torn between pleading and being angry. "You can't stop us from going. We need to get to Tessa. She's one of us, and we aren't going to leave her to die."

Charlotte looked exhausted. "You heard what Tes—what that automaton said." She glanced at the door Henry had just disappeared through, taking the clockwork girl with him, and Will saw a shudder pass through her. He understood her horror. Everyone had been fooled so entirely by Tessa's façade, it was almost impossible to accept that it hadn't really been her for weeks. "We're already too late."

"That doesn't mean we aren't going to try!" Jem's voice rose to a shout.

"I won't have you endangering your lives!" Charlotte cried. "Jessamine is lost to us, locked away in the City of Bones, and you think I'm going to let you charge off to Mortmain and get yourselves killed?"

"Jessamine was a traitor," Will said, his whole body tense and aching with the need to run out of the Institute and go to Tessa. "This is completely different."

"Tessa is not a Shadowhunter." Charlotte looked down at her lap, and the only thing that slowed Will's fury at her words was how much pain it was clearly causing her to say. "We can't risk our own by going after her."

Will was about to tell Charlotte exactly what he thought of her order, but Jem beat him to it.

"I'm not staying here, no matter what you say, Charlotte. If there's even a chance that Tessa is still alive, I'm going to find her," he said grimly. His knuckles were white as he gripped his cane, and Will saw a spot of blood on his collar that must have come from an earlier bought of coughing.

For the briefest of heartbeats, Will wanted to tell his _parabatai _to stay behind. He was too weak to go on a mission this dangerous. But if Jem wouldn't listen to Charlotte, he certainly wouldn't listen to Will.

"I'm going, too," Will said. Charlotte rose to her feet, her mouth open to object, but Will interrupted her. "This isn't open for debate. Tessa _is _one of us, Charlotte." He softened his voice and looked at her intently, trying to communicate his belief and reassurance with just one look. "We'll come back with her."

Charlotte's face showed all the distress and fear she felt for the two boys she had long regarded as sons, but at last she said softly, "I knew I couldn't stop you, but I had to try."

Will wanted to comfort her, tell her that he would get both Jem and Tessa back safely, but there was no time. Jem had already raced out of the room, and Will went after him, his blood pounding in his veins and his heart thundering in his chest.

_Hold on, Tessa, _he thought fiercely. _I'm coming. _


	16. Chapter 16

It was plain that with every passing second, Cruor become more impatient. Its tattered wings strained to break free of its prison, its tail lashing, a growl rumbling in its throat. It would fix its black eyes hungrily on Tessa, as if imagining the taste of her soul as it was sucked into its essence, freeing it.

Tessa tried not to pay attention to the demon. What mattered now was finding a way out. Although at the moment, that wasn't looking like such an easy task.

She was sitting against the wall, her wrists tied so tightly behind her back it felt as if her circulation had been cut off entirely, her ankles tied in front of her, and a foul-tasting gag in her mouth. Beside her, Elizabeth was in the same situation. Tessa was concerned for the other girl, who stared blankly at the ground as if she had lost the will to live, as if she didn't care what happened to her next.

Tessa knew what it was like to lose a sibling. She closed her eyes briefly, wishing she could say something to Elizabeth, anything, that would make it better, but there was nothing in the world that could do that.

Mortmain had been racing up and down the stairs nonstop, making sure all the preparations for the ceremony were perfect, his face pale and his breathing loud. Tessa could not tell whether his jumpiness came from excitement or terror, or perhaps a bit of both. He truly believed that this was the moment when he would finally achieve his revenge on the Shadowhunters. But did he have any idea that it might also be the end of him?

He couldn't know. If he'd had any inkling, surely he wouldn't have risked summoning Cruor at all.

Saige, the warlock that Tessa had locked in her cell and morphed into, stood off to the side, shooting her and Elizabeth baleful glares every now and then. Sparks shot from his fingertips as if he longed to cast a few good curses on them to make them regret what they'd done to him. But he didn't dare approach them, lest he close any distance between himself and Cruor. Despite being the one to have summoned him, Tessa could see that he was positively terrified of the demon, and with good reason.

"Ah," Cruor murmured suddenly, making everyone in the room jump. His eyes were fixed on Tessa again. "You do smell mouthwatering."

Tessa glared, unable to respond. She could feel herself trembling ever so slightly, and wished she weren't tied up. Perhaps she could try to shift into someone else, someone with thinner wrists, to escape her bonds, as she'd done when she'd been a captive of the Dark Sisters. But with the warlock watching her so closely, she wouldn't get far before he would have her right back where she'd been.

Mortmain suddenly stumbled down the stairs again, and this time he held the same spell book from the last time he had attempted to sacrifice Tessa. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs, and Tessa thought she saw him hesitate, a flicker of indecision crossing her face.

Tessa thrashed, trying to at least dislodge her gag. If she could say something now, help that doubt grow, maybe he would change his mind. Maybe they could still get out of this—

But it was too late. Mortmain squared his shoulders and lifted his chin, striding toward the glowing pentagram with the book held out before him. Cruor watched him approach, tail flicking back and forth. Its anticipation filled the room, sucking out the air.

"Cruor," said Mortmain in a strong voice, "it is time for me to uphold my end of our bargain. Once I have set you free, you will be obligated to destroy the Shadowhunters."

Cruor blinked slowly. "Yes."

_Don't listen! _Tessa wanted to scream. A demon like Cruor would find some way to twist its end of the bargain in its own favor. Mortmain would not be getting exactly what he had hoped, of that much Tessa was certain.

Mortmain turned to look into the shadows, strangely expressionless, and said, "Bring her forward."

Two clockwork creatures melted out of the darkness and seized Tessa's arms, dragging her unceremoniously across the floor and dumping her at Mortmain's feet. He looked down at her with utter disdain in his eyes, as if she were a rodent he had found in his dinner.

"Such a pity that you have to die before you see what will become of your precious Shadowhunters," he said softly. "I would have liked to have you watch them suffer."

Tessa hoped he could see in her eyes how much she hated him. He opened the book, leafing through the pages until he found the one that would seal all of their fates, and began to chant.

* * *

Will leaned forward and urged his horse to go faster. He could hear Jem, just behind him, and the thundering of his own ride's hooves against the cobblestones. Will's heart pounded as hard as the steps of the horses, keeping his mind focused on getting to the mansion that Magnus's tracking rune was leading them to, and nothing else.

_Tessa. _Her name was like a thrill going through him, an incentive to ride faster, harder. The thought of being able to see her, the real her and not an imposter, made his chest ache with longing. But there was that little fear that was steadily growing bigger that asked him, _What will you do if you're already too late? You took too long showing the others the truth, you idiot. If Tessa is gone, it will be your fault. _

"Will!" Jem shouted, and Will glanced back to see that his _parabatai _had veered off the main road and was racing toward a bridge, which led out of the busiest part of the city. Will trusted Jem's sense of direction more than his own, and turned his horse's reins to follow.

If Tessa were dead, surely he would be able to feel it. Surely he would not have this blazing sense of hope spurring him on, this certainty that soon he would see her again, see her smile, hear her laugh.

They thundered up an incline and leaped onto a path that would lead them toward their destination.

* * *

Tessa struggled against her bindings, painfully aware of how familiar the situation was. This time, there would be no mistakes on Mortmain's part. The full moon floated in the sky somewhere above them, unwittingly preparing the way for Tessa's death. Already she could feel a breeze, hot like it came from hell itself, tickling her face with small strands of her hair.

Cruor reared up for a moment, as if it wanted to smash the invisible walls of its cage, its eyes blazing. It was moments away from freedom.

And Tessa was moments away from death.

Mortmain was all but screaming the words of the chant now, his eyes wide and mad, as the breeze turned into a strong wind and the pentagram surrounding Cruor started to glow crimson. It looked like a circle of blood dripped on the floor around him.

Tessa jerked her head back and forth and at last, the gag came loose. She craned her neck until it fell from her mouth; she dragged in a deep breath and looked around wildly. There had to be something she could do, something she could use. A weapon? There was nothing but rubble, all tantalizingly out of her reach. If only she could get those damned ropes off her hands…

"Elizabeth!" Tessa cried over the sudden howl of wind. "Elizabeth, you have to move, you have to do something!"

The other girl blinked and slowly looked up at her. Her eyes were dull, lifeless.

"Please!" Tessa shouted, trying to wrench her hands out of the rope. Elizabeth continued to stare at her.

Then she had no choice. Tessa squeezed her eyes shut and tried to concentrate. Who was skinny enough that her ropes would loosen around her wrists when she changed?

Elizabeth was. But Tessa had never changed into her before, had nothing of hers to go off of.

She had to try, anyway. What did she have to lose?

_Elizabeth, _she thought fiercely, trying to block out the sounds of Mortmain's voice, Cruor's bellows, the wind and the heat and the automatons standing motionlessly nearby, watching it all. _Change into Elizabeth. _

She pictured the other girl in her mind, the shape of her face and the way her light hair was pulled back. She thought of the way she walked, the inflection in her voice, the way her face lit up with determination when she talked about her sister, the sister that was now lying dead in a closet—

The change stole over Tessa faster than she would have imagined possible. It felt as if her bones were shrinking, compressing in on themselves. She gritted her teeth together, willing the shift to come faster.

The ropes slipped on her scrawny wrists, and Tessa wasted no time. She threw the bindings off and lurched to her feet. Her instincts screamed at her to run for the staircase, to get herself out of there as quickly as possible.

If only Elizabeth weren't sitting against the wall, looking vacantly at her, helpless and broken.

Tessa raced toward her, lifting her skirts high so she wouldn't trip on them. She slid painfully onto her knees and instantly set to work undoing the knots around Elizabeth's wrists. She risked a glance at Mortmain and saw that he was still absorbed in the ritual, his eyes rolling back into his head. Cruor's gaze seemed to look straight into another dimension, wide and frenzied with excitement.

"Come on," Tessa hissed, breaking several fingernails as she tore at the ropes around the other girl. At last, the knot came loose, and she could have cried with relief. Elizabeth made no move to help her untie her ankles, so Tessa lunged at those and set to work on them.

"Elizabeth," Tessa almost had to yell so as to still be heard over the wind in the room. "Snap out of it. We have to get out of here. I'm sorry about your sister, I truly am, but there's no time to—"

She broke off as the ropes around Elizabeth's ankles came off in her hand. She threw them aside and hauled the other girl to her feet, draping her arm over her shoulders and pulling her urgently toward the stairs.

Without direct orders, the automatons made no move to detain them. Neither Mortmain or Cruor had noticed them slipping away, so immersed were they in the ceremony. Tessa's heart was beating a mile a minute, her hands slippery with sweat. If they could just make it out of the mansion before Mortmain completed the chant—

Suddenly the warlock loomed in front of them, his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes glaring.

"Going somewhere?" he sneered.

Tessa did the first thing that came to her mind. She reached down, scooped up a sizable rock that had crumbled from the ceiling, and smashed it against the side of the very surprised warlock's head.

He staggered backward, looking confused, before slumping to the ground.

Tessa looked at the rock in her hand with amazement. _Don't know my own strength, I suppose. _

The bottom of the stairs was just steps away. Tessa pulled on Elizabeth again, only to find that the other girl had planted her feet and wouldn't move another inch.

"Please, Elizabeth," Tessa begged, yanking with all her might. "We have to go."

"I think not," Elizabeth's voice, calm and even, answered.

Tessa's heart dropped through the floor. Despair pooled in her stomach, made her feel sick.

She dropped Elizabeth's arm and backed away.

"Ah, I see you've met one of my newest models," Mortmain's pleased voice said from where he still stood in front of the pentagram. He had a strange, manic smile plastered across his face, his fingers clutching the ancient book so hard they were turning white.

"No," Tessa whispered.

Elizabeth smiled, a blank, emotionless smile, and grabbed Tessa's arm, dragging her forward with unimaginable strength. "I'm afraid so," was all she said, before her fingers closed around Tessa's neck.

* * *

_Thanks for all the great reviews, guys! I always love to hear what you think! _


	17. Chapter 17

"Will!" Jem's voice barely reached Will's ears over the blood pounding deafeningly in his head. Will's head jerked up, his eyes squinting against the fierce wind that was rising and the raindrops that were starting to lash against his face. Through the steadily escalating storm, he could see a large, dark house, concealed by glamour but easily visible to him. He could feel his heart thundering in his chest, his hands tightening on his horse's reins.

There it was. Mortmain was in there.

So was Tessa.

Will dug his heel into his horse's side, spurring it on. He pulled ahead of Jem, leaning forward on his ride, urging it to go even faster. He was close. He could practically feel her presence, knew she wasn't dead, that they weren't too late—

Will jerked back on the reins, slowing his horse to a sloppy stop, and stumbled off with none of his usual grace. He could hear Jem dismounting behind him, but didn't bother to look back. He sprinted full out toward the mansion, as fast as his legs had ever carried him, it seemed.

* * *

Tessa tried to gasp for breath, her hand clawing at the fingers locked around her neck. Her mind struggled with panic and confusion—how? How could Elizabeth be an automaton? Her hands felt so human, her eyes had shown such emotion. How could a creature made of metal have cried over her sister's death?

It struck Tessa in some distant, distracted part of her mind that she had not seen any actual tears in Elizabeth's eyes. Her sobs had been convincing, but dry. Her memory flashed briefly back to that day when Elizabeth had caught her escaping from her room, how she had grabbed her with such unyielding strength.

Had this been Mortmain's plan all along? Make Tessa think she was close to freedom, that it was within arm's length, only to tear it away from her at the last moment, and take away everything she had learned to depend on?

Tessa's lungs screamed for air. Her attempts to get away grew more frantic as the world grew fuzzy around her. She focused on Elizabeth's face, impassive, blank, robotic, nothing like the girl that had been wailing over her sister's death on the floor only minutes ago.

"Release her," Mortmain's voice said, and instantly the hand around Tessa's throat loosened, and she stumbled backward, barely managing to keep her footing.

She couldn't look away from Elizabeth, one hand held to her burning throat. All she could think was, _how? _

"I didn't have to do that, you know," said Mortmain, his voice calm on the surface but with an undercurrent of frenzied excitement and madness. "It could have all been quite simple, if you had only cooperated. But you kept trying to get away, didn't you? You kept making a nuisance of yourself. I knew that eventually, you would have come up with the plan to Change into someone else on your own, and without someone to supervise you, you could have potentially done damage. So I had no choice but to send Elizabeth to keep an eye on you."

"She helped me," Tessa croaked, feeling herself tremble. "Why did she help me?"

"I always was one for dramatics," Mortmain said, a wide smile spreading across his face.

Elizabeth stood planted before the staircase, immovable, blocking the only way out. Tessa cast her eyes wildly around, searching for something that would help, something that could distract them long enough for her to get away.

"Sacrifice her to me," Cruor bellowed, its talons scraping viciously against the floor, its eyes blazing with black fire. "Do it now, human!"

Mortmain whirled around as if he had forgotten the presence of the demon. "Of course," he sputtered. "Bring her to me."

Elizabeth moved forward with startling speed, and before Tessa could take more than one step backward, she had clamped her arms around her, pinning Tessa's own arms to her sides.

"Elizabeth," Tessa whispered, as if a part of her were still convinced that there was some remnant of the girl she had known left inside, the girl who had never truly existed at all. "Please."

Elizabeth didn't even glance at her. She dragged her toward Mortmain and threw her roughly to the ground before stepping back, her blank gaze focused on nothing.

Tessa's hands fluttered on the ground, searching for something, _anything. _Her fingers closed around a large, heavy rock much like the one she had clobbered the warlock with, and an idea entered her head. An impossible idea, one that would most likely never work, but one all the same.

She steeled herself and slowly lifted the rock.

* * *

It wouldn't have mattered if the front door was locked or not. Will didn't bother with the doorknob. He simply threw himself at the expensive oak wood and crashed straight through into the mansion.

Without thinking, he shouted to the house in general, "_Tessa!" _

His voice echoed back at him for several agonizing seconds. Then his answer came—in the form of clanking and whirring as a badly developed automaton toddled out of the shadows, as if it had been waiting there for him.

It had no face, no voice, yet the clanging sounds emitting from its person seemed to be a challenge. Will was tempted to run straight past without paying it any mind, certain he could outrun it, but then it was joined by more, pouring out of shadows and doors in varying stages of creation.

Another problem turned up in the form of Jem. He stumbled gasping through the door, leaning heavily on his cane, his face white. The intense ride over must have taken its toll on him, Will realized with a pang of guilt and worry.

"James, go back!" he shouted as he jerked his seraph blade out and faced the army of clockwork creatures advancing on them.

Jem straightened, his face taking on a grim, steely look. "Not a chance," he said, removing his own seraph blade. "I'll fight with you until the end, Will."

They shared a brief look, and Will's fears melted away. Jem was strong, invincible, unbeatable. He would be fine.

Will leaped at the nearest automaton and ran it through with his blade. Its head jerked unnaturally to the side as something that looked like oil ran down its chest and pooled at its feet. It crumpled to the ground but was quickly replaced with another just like it.

Will wrestled with his despair as he spun from one creature to the next, slashing and stabbing, jumping and twisting. They had no time for this. He could feel rumbling beneath his feet; something was going on down below. And he feared that Tessa was involved.

He tried to fight through the crowd, but metallic arms held him back, kept him away from her, and even though he cried her name it was lost in the sounds of the fight.

* * *

Mortmain finished the incantation, and his eyes seemed to glow with an unnatural, unearthly light. He removed something from within his jacket—a gleaming dagger. He set the spellbook gently on the ground, as if afraid of damaging it, and then turned back to Tessa, seeming to look straight through her.

"I give her soul to you, Cruor, demon of bloodshed, so that it may release you from your bonds," he cried.

Tessa pulled her arm back and threw the rock as hard as she could, straight at the monster crouching in the middle of the pentagram.

She didn't know whether the circle would have prevented the rock's passing through it or not if it had been in its most powerful state—but she could see the lines of it flickering as the incantation steadily weakened its power, as if it struggled to contain its prisoner. The rock sailed from Tessa's hand, leaving an intense ache in her arm from the strength with which she threw it, and slammed into the side of Cruor's face.

It was hardly enough to injure the demon. Tessa doubted it would even scratch its scales. But she had guessed that Cruor was a prideful creature, and would not take kindly to being hit with rocks—and she was right.

Cruor reared up with a roar of rage, its fingers clawing at the air. Mortmain stumbled back, blinking as if coming out of a daze, and fixed a terrified look on Cruor. Tessa scrambled backward on her hands, putting as much distance as she possibly could between her and the raging demon.

Then, to her astonishment, fire poured out of Cruor's mouth, as if it were one of the dragons she'd read about in stories. Much of it appeared to be deflected by the pentagram, but flames leaked through, catching onto the rug, the curtains—anything that could possibly catch fire.

Mortmain spun in a circle, panicked, shocked, confused. His eyes landed on Tessa and filled with fury.

"You!" he bellowed. "You did this—" He lunged for her, and Tessa lurched to her feet, running for the stairs.

Then Elizabeth was there, standing in her way, gray eyes vacant and emotionless. It was almost too much to bear. The fire roared around them, almost drowned out by Cruor's own infuriated screams, which were now most likely due to the fact that the room was burning and Mortmain had once again been sidetracked from the task at hand.

Heat pulsed against Tessa's skin and smoke was beginning to gather against the ceiling, filling the room with an acrid scent. She tried to push past Elizabeth but the automaton easily pushed her back, so hard that Tessa was almost sent down to the floor.

"Please!" Tessa screamed, as Mortmain veered around a pile of debris and walked quickly toward her, trying not to run lest it look as if he were desperate.

Elizabeth didn't budge. Smoke was beginning to replace the oxygen that Tessa inhaled, and she coughed harshly into her sleeve, sweat dripping down her forehead from the heat. Mortmain reached her and grabbed her arm, his eyes blazing.

"Enough!" he shouted. He held up his knife, but before he could so much as twitch his pinkie, something quite pressing happened.

Elizabeth caught on fire.

* * *

Will felt his blade pass cleanly through the neck of an automaton; he didn't bother stopping to watch the head fall to the ground. Sweat plastered his dark hair to his forehead, and his arms ached. But he could not stop. He would keep going until every last one of them was dead, if he had to.

He could not catch sight of Jem. Where was he? Was he still fighting? Had he taken Will's advice and run for it? No, Will knew he would never abandon him here, not his own _parabatai. _Either he was here fighting, or he was dead.

Will could not bear to even consider the latter.

A metal fist swung into his jaw, snapping his head sideways and sending him stumbling back. He had no time to wipe the blood from his chin before another creature was punching him in the stomach, another shoving him to the ground. He tried to gasp for the air that had been knocked out of him but was assailed with another hit to the face.

It was over, he thought with despair. He would never get to Tessa, because he would die here, in Mortmain's mansion, at the hands of inanimate objects.

And then something miraculous happened. He heard a shout—more like a battle cry. He managed to stagger to his feet, putting distance between himself and the ever moving tide of automatons, and swiveled his head to look at the door. He felt relief and joy so intense he could have sang.

Gideon was charging through the front doors, face twisted with the fury of battle, and a dozen Shadowhunters poured in after him, seraph blades held high. They must have ridden hard and fast to get there so quickly. The attention of the automatons instantly shifted to the newcomers, and Will hesitated, seeing his chance, reluctant to take it.

"Go!" he heard someone shout, and looked over to see Jem running his blade through a clockwork creature. His _parabatai _caught his eye and cried again, "_Go!" _

Will did not wait to be told again. He turned and raced toward the wide set of double doors at the end of the room, praying that he was going the right way, and that he would not cost those people their lives by leaving them to fight without him.

* * *

_Thanks so much for reading! Getting near the end here..._

_Please review and tell me what you think! _


	18. Chapter 18

Tessa stumbled back from the sudden inferno, her cry cut off by a bout of coughing. Flames leaped around Elizabeth's figure, which didn't writhe or show any sign that it knew it was on fire; it simply stood there, stoic and unfeeling, eyes pointed straight ahead.

Tessa felt pressure building in her throat and behind her eyes, inexplicably, it seemed, for who was she crying for? Elizabeth wasn't real; she never had been. This was not a life lost. It was just the destruction of another one of Mortmain's mindless robots.

And yet, that didn't stop the ache from spreading through Tessa's chest as she watched Elizabeth burn. The heat blazing off of her was so intense, Tessa could almost feel her skin blistering.

Then the fire caught the oil and who-knew-what-else running through Elizabeth's mechanical veins, and the explosion threw Tessa backward.

* * *

Will almost lost his footing as a momentous sound, like a boulder rolling down the side of a mountain, filled the mansion, causing the floor to shudder and the house to moan on its foundation. He righted himself and kept running, his fear spurring him on.

_Let her be alive. Please let her be alive._

He could hear the uneven, heavy footsteps of pursuing automatons, but he didn't look back. There was no time to stop and fight. He thought he felt a cold hand grasping at his shirt once from behind, but he struck blindly behind him with his seraph blade, and the clutching fingers disappeared.

Now, an unmistakable scent assaulted his senses, filling him with dread. It was the smell of smoke.

The mansion was on fire.

* * *

Tessa screamed and scrabbled backward on her hands, unthinkingly and uselessly trying to put distance between herself and the sudden patch of fire that had caught onto the edge of her skirt. At first all she could do was look at it, panicked, until the searing pain of heat against her leg snapped her out of her daze.

With a strength Tessa didn't know she had, she lunged forward and tore the burning cloth away from the dress, scalding her hands in the process. She couldn't bear to look at her ankle—she feared what she would see. The pain throbbed up her entire leg, making spots appear before her vision and her whole body feel weak.

She heard a howl of agony and her head whipped around. She was not the only one injured by Elizabeth's destruction.

Mortmain staggered past her, beating wildly at his sleeve, which was being steadily swallowed by fire. He managed to fall to the ground and roll, dousing the flame, and Tessa caught a glimpse of the burned skin from his wrist to his shoulder, making her feel ill.

"Mortmain!" Cruor shrieked in an unearthly voice. "Kill the girl! _Release me now!" _

Mortmain was curled on his side, cradling his burned arm and making piteous moaning sounds. Tessa felt no sympathy for him; her own ankle seared, and she had to bite her lip to keep back a cry of pain.

In the back of the room, Tessa heard a second deafening boom as another automaton caught fire and vanquished. She covered her head with her arms, praying no more fire would attach itself to her.

This was her chance, she realized. Mortmain was distracted, Elizabeth was no longer blocking the door, and the warlock must have fled—she couldn't see him through the thick smoke.

Tessa attempted to stand, and this time she couldn't entirely bite back her scream as her leg gave out in agony and she collapsed back to the ground.

She could hardly breathe. The smoke infiltrated her lungs, choking her, and her vision was blurry. Whether or not Mortmain found the ability to regain his feet and make his way over to her, she would still die if she remained in this room, either by burning to death or suffocation.

Painfully, slowly, Tessa began to crawl toward the staircase, dragging her burned leg behind her. Her chest hitched with laborious breaths and dry sobs, her mind begging to shut off from the pain, but she could not let it. She could not pass out here, in this room that would surely become her tomb.

"The sacrifice!" she heard Cruor roar, beating furiously against its invisible cage. She didn't look back to see if Mortmain responded. She kept pulling herself forward, biting on her tongue until she tasted blood, hoping against hope that she could make it.

* * *

Will was not sure how he knew which door was the right one. Perhaps it was largely in part to the fact that smoke billowed out the bottom of it, and he could hear the roaring of flames behind it, and the roar of something else too, something monstrous.

Without slowing, he threw himself at the door, wrapping his fingers around the knob, only to yank them back as they were scalded by the heated metal.

He imagined Tessa trapped on the other side, surrounded by fire and smoke, and that was all the push he needed.

Gritting his teeth, he wrapped his hand in the bottom of his shirt and yanked on the doorknob.

It was locked.

Barely suppressing a howl of frustration, Will threw his shoulder against the door, again and again, his rage growing as it refused to give. He was so close—_so close—_to getting to Tessa. He could feel her on the other side of the door, waiting for him. Needing him to get to her.

Will ran at the door again.

* * *

The stairs were the hardest part.

Once Tessa reached them, she had to fight against despair. They were steep, and many, and not designed for an injured girl to crawl up. But she had no choice. Her mind grew fuzzier with each passing second, the pain in her leg intensifying, her breath growing shorter.

Tessa began to drag herself up the stairs, Cruor's enraged bellows masking her own cries of pain. She squeezed her eyes shut and forced herself forward, trying to push the burn to the back of her mind.

_Distract yourself, _she thought frantically. _Think of something. Anything._

She thought of Charlotte, small and kind, yet fierce. She thought of Henry and his preoccupation with all things mechanical. She thought of dear Sophie, with her beautiful smile and caring nature. She thought of Jem, his silver eyes glowing when he looked at her, the way his smile could light up the room and lift her spirits. And she thought of Will.

Will would not give up here, she thought, her eyes wanting to dispel tears, but her body too dehydrated to allow them. He would keep going until his body gave out. He wouldn't sit on these stairs and feel sorry for himself. He would fight for his life. He would fight for hers, if he were here.

She could picture him next to her, fixing her with those sarcastic blue eyes of his, and saying, "Lord, Tess, you've thrown in the towel already? You lasted even less time than I expected, and that's saying something."

Tessa clenched her jaw and pulled herself up another stair.

She kept going, thinking of nothing but the people she loved, forcing herself not to dwell on the pain in her ankle or the fear in her heart or the fogginess in her head.

Eventually all the faces faded out of her mind, one by one, until she could hardly remember her own name, let alone theirs. She could cling to only two—one of them had silver hair and eyes, a kind smile, the other was fierce, with sapphire eyes that could look straight into her soul, it seemed.

And then even they seemed to fade away, until all she could hold onto was a pair of intense blue eyes, and a voice murmuring to her to keep going.

She reached up, and her hand brushed the door.

* * *

Will felt as if his shoulder were breaking. He did not relent his attack on the door, however. He flung himself at it again, his frustration growing. He had tried an opening rune, and it had done nothing—this door must have been enchanted with warlock magic.

But no matter how much his brain told him he would not be able to budge the door, his body kept on trying. He was coughing periodically now from the smoke that seeped from under the door, and he kept his sleeve over his nose, trying not to inhale too deeply.

And then he heard it.

A feeble scratching noise, like someone was trying to push the door open on the other side.

It could have been anyone. It could have been Mortmain, or even one of his clockwork creatures. But Will pressed his face to the door and shouted, "Tessa?"

He waited, his heart racing, as the seconds stretched on.

Then, at last, he heard a faint voice say, "Will?"

* * *

His voice was the most beautiful thing she'd ever heard.

"Will!" Her voice rose to a hoarse shriek as she lunged for the doorknob, only to reel back as she burned her hands. She weakly pounded a fist on the door, her second attempt to say his name thwarted by violent coughs.

"Tessa! I'm coming!" She could feel something heavy slamming again and again against the door. Will was trying to get in. He had come for her, and he would save her now.

Tessa tried to pull herself up by bracing her arms on either side of the wall, but her body wouldn't obey. She placed her hand against the door, wishing she could do something. Her eyes wouldn't stay open. The world seemed to be made entirely of smoke.

Somehow, she found her cheek to be pressed against the door, her head too heavy to hold up.

_Stay awake, _she told herself sternly, but she was so tired. What was the good in staying awake?

Someone was calling her name. Someone else wanted her to stay awake, too. But who? She just couldn't remember…

Just as Tessa's eyes began to slip closed, a hand shot out of the smoke and clamped down on her shoulder.

* * *

_Since this cliffhanger was really mean, I'll try to update ASAP!_

_Thanks so much for reading and leaving reviews! You guys are the best! _


	19. Chapter 19

On a reflex, Tessa tried to jerk away from the hand clutching her shoulder, clawing at it with her fingernails, but her attempts were feeble. She could hardly keep her eyes open, even with this new shot of adrenaline.

"Hold still," a voice hissed, and a wave of terror crashed over Tessa as she pictured Mortmain dragging her back down the stairs, throwing her in front of Cruor, and running her through with his dagger.

Another hand reached and clamped down on her other shoulder, turning her forcefully to face her assailant. Tessa tried to kick him, but he didn't flinch as her foot swatted at his leg.

"Do you want me to open the damn door or not?" the voice growled, and Tessa opened her eyes wider, squinting through the suffocating smoke.

It wasn't Mortmain. It was his warlock.

"What…" she said, dazed.

His face was soot-stained and his eyes were cold. "I'm not letting that monster get out," he said. "It will be the death of us all. Therefore, I can't let Mortmain sacrifice you to it. Now move out of the way."

Still stunned, Tessa obediently slid to the side of the stairwell, pressing her back against the wall. She was painfully aware of the heat that was leaking up to them as the flames tried to climb up the stairs, longing to reach them. Every breath was an effort, and her lungs felt as if they had withered and collapsed in her chest.

The warlock stepped over her and pressed one clawed hand on the door, fingers splayed. Tessa tried to concentrate on keeping her eyes open as his own gaze grew sharp and his body went taut. Power sparked through the air around him, and spidery blue veins spread along the door from where the warlock's hand touched. She could just hear him whispering something in a language she didn't know.

There was another loud bang from the other side of the door, and she heard Will shout her name again. She could not summon the energy to answer him, even though her mind urged her to do so. _Will, _she thought numbly as black spots popped in her vision and her body started to shut down. _Stay awake for Will. _

Through blurry eyes, she saw the warlock sink to his knees, his arm trembling violently, his eyelids fluttering. She couldn't tell whether it was a result of the magic he was expelling or the difficulty of staying conscious from inhaling the smoke.

The pounding on the door grew more urgent. Tessa didn't even have the strength to cough anymore. Her heart ached to know that Will was just on the other side, feet away, and she would never see him again before she died. They were so tantalizingly close, and yet still kept apart by a simple door.

She lifted her hand and rested it on the door, imagining Will's hand mirroring her own, and her hope slipped away.

* * *

Will's desperation had reached its highest point. He was now aiming hard kicks at the center of the door and at the hinges, trying to break it down, but whatever spell had been cast was stronger than he was.

"Tessa," he gasped, too out of breath to shout.

He went back to ramming his shoulder, causing harsh pain to shatter through his arm. He gritted his teeth and tried again. The door was growing warm now; did that mean the fire had reached it? Did that mean Tessa had been overtaken by it?

His fear drove him through the pain. He slammed his shoulder again, then again, until he felt like he would black out from the pain of his cracked bone.

He opened his eyes, panting, and then did a double take.

The door was covered in rapidly spreading blue cracks. His heart hammered and searing hope sprang up inside of him. Was the enchantment breaking?

He took several steps back, giving himself a running start, and fixed his eyes on the door. He would have one last chance at this; one last good blow. Either he would break down the door with this one, or black out from the pain.

He started running.

* * *

Tessa's head lolled on her shoulder. She was so sleepy. It was difficult to remember why she had to stay awake. It was too hot, and too hard to breathe. Surely if she went to sleep, all of those things would be solved. In her sleep, she could dream she was someplace happier, surrounded by her family. If only she could always live in her dreams.

The warlock let out a cry and Tessa's eyes fluttered open again. He was shaking, his back arched, his eyes wide as he threw out the last of his exhausted, weakened magic. The door shuddered and the blue veins faded away.

_He broke the spell, _Tessa realized with mild interest.

The warlock keeled over backward, rolling down half the stairs. Tessa wanted to go to him, drag him back up, but she couldn't even lift her head. The warlock was unconscious, his body limp on the stairs. He might have even been dead.

How ironic, Tessa thought, that the enchantment would be broken, but neither of them had the strength to open the door.

Tessa sighed and let her eyes close.

* * *

Will hurled himself at the door with all the strength left in his exhausted body. He expected a crunch, blinding pain, but it didn't come. Instead, he found himself crashing straight through the door, nearly tumbling down a flight of steep steps.

He fell heavily to his knees, sucking in a sharp breath at the agony in his shoulder, only to choke on the thick smoke roiling through the air.

His hand brushed something and he looked down. The smoke obscured most of his vision, but he could see that he was kneeling on someone's skirt.

Will whipped his head up, and there she was, right beside him, smoke and soot stained, tear streaks lining her dirty face, her hair a tangled mess, yet still more beautiful than anything he'd ever laid eyes on. Her legs were folded neatly underneath her, the way she often sat when she settled herself in the library on the window seat with a good book. Her head had tipped sideways onto her shoulder, and her face was slack. Peaceful.

Will gathered her to him and held her close, one hand against the back of her head to press her face into his neck. He could have stayed there forever, holding her and reveling in the fact that he was doing so, but he knew they didn't have much time. He could scarcely breathe in the smoke, and she had been enduring it for much longer.

Will swept her up into his arms, blackness brushing the edges of his vision as his shoulder screamed in painful protest. He stumbled out of the stairwell, holding her tight against his chest. Her body was light and limp in his arms; she gave no sign that she was even alive.

His joy was replaced with fear. She was not safe yet.

A clanking sound from the doorway made him spin around, almost losing his hold on Tessa. His heart plummeted when he saw the automatons swarming over each other in their desperation to get to Will, faceless and horrifying, knowing nothing but the instinct to kill.

Will shifted Tessa until she was draped over his shoulder. Thinking of how furious she would be if she knew he carried her in such an undignified way almost made his lips tip up in a smile. He drew his seraph blade, his arm shaking with exhaustion. His best bet would be to fight his way through the crowd of automatons until he reached the place where the others hopefully still fought.

He wasn't at his full strength, and he was no match for the number of clockwork creatures that advanced on him. But he had come this far, and he sure as hell wasn't giving up yet.

With a hoarse yell, Will raised his blade and charged.


	20. Chapter 20

The automatons fell on Will as if his cry had triggered a frenzy in them. Some of them had weapons welded to their arms instead of hands, while others clawed and lunged at him, knowing of nothing but the instinct to kill, to destroy. Will viciously tore through the sea of metal monsters with his seraph blade, not knowing where he struck but feeling the blade slice through artificial skin and sever limbs.

He didn't have time to stop and fight. Tessa hung limply from his shoulder, giving no sign that she still lived. What would he do if he had found her, rescued her from the burning basement, only to have her die as he fought to free them from Mortmain's mansion? He would not survive it if it happened.

Suddenly Will felt the weight of Tessa disappear, and panic instantly leaped through his chest. He staggered, unbalanced by the sudden lightness, and spun around. A clockwork creature had dragged her motionless form off his shoulder and was now holding her with one hand locked around her neck, its blank eyes staring right through her.

Will lunged, his blade passing cleanly through the automaton's wrist. It didn't even flinch as its hand clattered to the floor, and Tessa collapsed with it. Will scooped her awkwardly up with one arm as his other instinctively thrashed at the monsters pressing in on him in every direction.

Hopelessness threatened to suffocate him. If he had both hands free, he might have stood a chance against the relentless tide of automatons, but when he had an unconscious Tessa to protect, it made matters a lot trickier.

He heard an enraged cry from beyond the doorway, and his head snapped around. He knew that sound—Henry's battle cry. The others were still out there, fighting. All he had to do was get past the automatons crammed in his way, and he and Tessa might be able to make it out of this alive.

Will adjusted his grip on Tessa, wrapping the arm not clutching his seraph blade around her knees to keep her firmly in place, braced himself, and ran.

Metal hands tore at his clothes and face, and red hot pain buffeted him on every side. He refused to let the clutching hands drag him back, the attacks slow him down. He forced his way through the crowd, throwing automatons back, tightening his hold on Tessa as he felt more clockwork creatures trying to yank her away from him.

And then, when he feared he would stumble and go down beneath a stampede of automaton feet, he broke free of the bottleneck in the doorway, staggering out into the real fight.

His eyes found Shadowhunters, darting and weaving through the mass of automatons. Bodies littered the floor, most of them metal, but some of them unmistakably human. Pain clenched his heart. He forced himself not to focus on their faces. If they were people he knew, people he loved, he wasn't sure if he could continue fighting.

"Will!" someone shouted. He spun around to see Jem fighting his way toward him, his silver eyes mirroring the relief flooding through Will. Jem's eyes found Tessa and he sucked in a breath. "You found her," he breathed, barely audible above the sounds of the fight.

"We have to retreat," Will shouted, hoisting Tessa higher on his shoulder while holding his blade threateningly at an automaton that was shuffling closer. "We have Tessa. Now we have to go."

"These Shadowhunters didn't come for Tessa, Will," Jem called back. "They came to take Mortmain down, once and for all."

Will felt his eyes widen in disbelief. "Are they bloody mad?" he cried. "There are hundreds of automatons here! We can't possibly hope to—"

His words were cut off as something heavy smacked him in the back of the head, sending him reeling forward. He barely managed to keep himself from crumpling to the ground, and taking Tessa with him. He staggered around, his vision blurring slightly, to see an automaton with one large hand raised, prepared to deal another blow.

Before he could adjust his grip on his blade and attack, Jem was there, flashing forward with incredible speed and driving his seraph straight through the automaton's chest. Black oil spilled out around the wound and the creature sagged forward, burying the blade more deeply still into its fake flesh.

Jem attempted to jerk his weapon out of the automaton, but it was stuck fast. He placed one foot against the creature's shoulder and tugged. He was so absorbed in the action that he didn't see the shadow looming behind him.

Will's body urged him into action. He lurched forward, stumbling under Tessa's forgotten weight, slowing him down. He couldn't get there in time. He had barely shouted, "Jem!" when a long dagger slid into his _parabatai's _side. Jem's silver eyes flew wide with shock, and a thin sound spilled out of his mouth. The owner of the blade yanked it out, and Jem collapsed sideways.

Will cried out, a sound full of such pain and anguish that it was as if he had been the one stabbed. He fell to his knees beside Jem, barely reminding himself to be gentle as he removed Tessa from his shoulder and laid her on the ground beside him. His eyes were only for his best friend, his brother, whose eyes were still frozen wide, his breath coming in pants, his hands curled around the injury in his side.

"James." Will's voice shook. "James, no. Please, no."

"It's fine," Jem whispered, his voice thin. "You got her. She's safe. Make sure she gets out of here, Will. Take care of her."

"Don't talk like that," Will said fiercely, rage chasing away his shocked grief. "You're going to help me get her out of here. You're going to take care of her, too."

Jem didn't respond. He squeezed his eyes shut, swallowing a groan of pain.

"How sickeningly touching."

Will's head snapped up. His heartbeat seemed to still. It was not an automaton that had stabbed Jem.

It was Mortmain.

He was bent over, one blistered, burned arm pressed against his side. His clothing and skin were covered in soot and smoke stains. He was breathing hard, the sound raspy in his throat. His eyes were wide, full of madness and desperation and fear.

"Give me the girl," Mortmain said, his voice sounding high-pitched.

"Go to hell," Will spat, hatred sizzling in him as he looked up at the other man—if he could even be called a man.

"Give me the girl," Mortmain said, more forcefully, "and I won't kill your friend." He swung his knife around and held it against Jem's throat. Jem opened one eye with effort, focusing on Will with a look that said, _If you give her up for me, I will never forgive you. _

Will's hand shot out with speed that surprised even him, knocking the knife out of Mortmain's hand and sending it skidding across the floor, lost between the feet of automatons and Shadowhunters. Mortmain instantly began backing away, seeking solace behind the wall of his despicable, unnatural army. Will jumped up and advanced on him, seraph blade outstretched. Rage filled every inch of him, and all he wanted in that moment was the death of the person standing in front of him, who had captured Tessa, replaced her with a sick clockwork clone, tortured her, nearly killed her, and who might now be responsible for the death of the man who mattered most to Will. His _parabatai. _His brother.

"You should consider yourself lucky," Will snarled. "I should take you apart one piece at a time. I should make your death painful and long. I should make you scream apologies for every life you've taken, every wound you've caused. But I'm going to kill you quickly instead. Because I need to get Tessa and Jem out of here, and I'm not going to waste any more time on scum like you."

"You can't kill me," Mortmain wheezed, his frantic eyes fixed on Will's blade. "I have to get a sacrifice for the demon. Its rage will be too much to bear, it will bring the roof down on top of everyone in this house."

Will paused, but only for a moment. "Then that will be the only burial you'll be receiving," he said coldly.

Mortmain's eyes shifted past Will's shoulder, the only warning he got before immovable arms wrapped around his torso, dragging him backward. Will struggled violently, a string of curses pouring out of his mouth. He tried to stab the automaton in the stomach with his sword, but he couldn't get his hand around to do it.

Mortmain regarded him with a sneer. "You all think you can come into my house and destroy everything I've worked to achieve," he said. "You're quite wrong, I'm afraid, Mr. Herondale. And mistakes like the one you have made do come with consequences, the first of which being that you will watch the death of the people you care most about. I will sacrifice Tessa right here, in front of you, and then Cruor will be unleashed," he said, brandishing his dagger, "and you will all be reduced to ashes."

Will fought harder against the unyielding arms holding him in place. He threw every swear word he'd ever learned, getting quite creative, but Mortmain didn't blink.

The fighting automatons parted as Mortmain walked calmly through them, stopping at the spot where Tessa lay beside Jem. Will's heart lurched as he saw how motionless they both were. What if they were already dead?

Mortmain knelt beside her, roughly turning her onto her back. Her serene, soot-stained face was visible to Will, and his heart screamed with pain as he imagined that knife plunging into her chest, dragging away what little life still existed in her.

Mortmain raised the dagger.

* * *

In truth, Tessa had been awake for quite some time. Ever since Will had met up with Jem, she had been conscious. However, she had decided against stirring and alerting the rest of them to this fact; something told her to stay still and silent.

It wasn't difficult to feign unconsciousness. She suspected it wouldn't be hard to believe that she was dead, in fact. Every bit of her ached and burned. Her lungs felt as if they had withered up and were now useless; every breath was like inhaling fire. Her leg was the thing that threatened to give her away, flaring with agony that wanted to make itself known through whimpers and moans. She forced herself to remain quiet, and to listen.

She almost cracked when she heard Will shout Jem's name, when he set her on the ground and begged his _parabatai _not to die. Tears welled up behind her dried eyelids, and the pain of keeping her grief back was worse than the burns on her body. Was it true? Was Jem dying?

When she heard Mortmain's voice, her hatred for him burned brighter than it ever had before. How dare he harm a pure, innocent soul like Jem's. He had no right to touch him. None at all.

She felt Will's absence beside her and knew that he had gone after Mortmain. She dared to open her eyes, choking back a gasp when she found herself face to face with Jem. His eyes were closed, his face grayish. Blood was pooling on the ground beneath him. Fear welled up inside of her, so strong it nearly suffocated her.

"Jem," she whispered, her voice trembling. She doubted she could be heard over the noise of the battle, but she had to try. "Jem!"

To her relief, his silver eyes opened, blinking at her until she came into focus. "Tessa," he breathed, his voice weak. "You're all right."

Tessa reached out and grasped his hand. "I'm fine," she croaked, not entirely sure she was telling the truth. "At least, I will be. But you have to promise me something."

Through the pain in his face, his eyes glowed. "Anything."

"You have to be all right, too," she said, forcing firmness into her voice. "You have to promise, Jem."

A trickle of blood fell from the corner of his mouth. His lips twitched into a weary smile. "I promise."

She squeezed his hand and then quickly withdrew her own as Mortmain stumbled over to her. He smelled of singed hair and clothes, smoke, and blood. She opened her eye a slit and saw a huge automaton grasping a violently struggling Will from behind.

"And now, let the demon be released," Mortmain whispered, holding the knife high over his head, as if wanting to prolong the moment.

Tessa had read enough books in her lifetime to know that a villain's moment of prideful hesitation was always their downfall.

This was no exception.

Tessa reached up and raked her nails across Mortmain's face. He cried out, turning away and bringing one hand to his cheek. She jerked the dagger out of his hand, scooting rapidly backward to put distance between them.

Mortmain whipped around, his eyes full of rage, fresh claw marks decorating his cheek. "You little—" he snarled. He stabbed his finger at her. "Get her! Tear her apart until she hangs onto life by a thread! Then bring her to me."

It seemed as if every automaton in the immediate vicinity turned to obey Mortmain's command, stumbling over each other in their haste to get to Tessa. She could hear Will shouting her name, but all she could think about was the knife in her hand and the sheer number of clockwork monsters advancing on her. She would have been lucky to be able to take down one or two on her own, with a simple knife. Taking down dozens was out of the question.

Tessa rose unsteadily to her feet, lifting the knife, ready to use it until she couldn't move anymore.

Suddenly, the front doors of the mansion opened with a resounding bang. Every head turned, startled, to see a figure standing in the doorway, hands braced on his hips, catlike smile lighting up his face mischievously.

"Oh, good," Magnus Bane said. "I haven't missed the party." He tipped his head casually, and a swarm of Downworlders burst into the mansion, falling on the automatons with excited battle shrieks.

* * *

_I had to put Magnus in there somewhere! He's one of my favorite characters ever. _

_Thanks for reading and reviewing! _


	21. Chapter 21

Tessa was fairly certain her jaw was left sitting on the floor of the mansion as the Downworlders swarmed in. Some of them carried weapons, knives and clubs and some things Tessa didn't even know the names of, while some of them threw themselves into the fight with nothing but their bare hands—and, in some cases, claws and fangs—to fight with.

Many of the automatons abandoned the Shadowhunters and turned to meet this new threat. The creatures surrounding Tessa, however, were not so easily distracted. They paused only briefly as the Downworlders flooded around them, falling on their comrades, before turning their attention back to Tessa.

"Tessa!" she heard Will howl. "Run!"

But where could she run? She was encircled by tall, immovable clockwork creatures, who knew nothing of pain or compassion, who knew only that they must obey their master's orders and tear her apart.

One automaton broke away from the rest, darting toward Tessa with startling speed. She lifted the knife, wishing she knew how to use it in a way that might actually be useful, and held it awkwardly in front of her. The automaton reached out a hand, either to knock the weapon away or to simply grab her by the neck and squeeze.

Suddenly it crumpled to the ground, falling awkwardly around all of its heavy weight. Tessa stumbled back, gasping as she saw Jem's seraph blade embedded in the creature's leg. Jem pulled himself up, his face creasing into a grimace of pain, wrenched the weapon out of the automaton, and stabbed it into its chest.

"Jem!" Will shouted, and the sight of his _parabatai _on his feet and fighting must have given him a surge of strength. He kicked out at the automaton that restrained him with such force that it skidded backward across the floor, rolling until two large, hairy beasts fell on it with snarls.

Tessa couldn't tear her eyes away from the two wolves as they tore metal limbs off of the clockwork monster, flinging them away viciously and biting into another appendage. The battle closed over the grisly scene, and Tessa forced herself to turn her face away, her heart thumping wildly.

A hand closed around her arm, and Tessa instinctively twisted away, raising the knife defensively. It was only Will. His deep blue eyes looked almost black as he drew her closer to him, his warm breath stirring her hair as he murmured, "Sneak along the edges of the crowd. Take a horse and get out of here. _Go." _His eyes were urgent, his hand squeezing Tessa's wrist.

Their eyes locked. For a heartbeat, the roar of the battle seemed to fade into the background, until it was just the two of them. It began to truly dawn on Tessa that he was here, he'd come for her. Suddenly seized with a mad urge, Tessa leaned forward and pressed her mouth hard to his.

Neither of them had been expecting it. Tessa felt Will go rigid with surprise, his hand releasing her arm. Her own eyes flew open to meet his, and she jerked away, feeling her face color with mortification. Had she really just kissed Will in front of all these people?

Then again, "people" was a rather broad term for the creatures filling the room, and it was doubtful that anyone was paying them any attention.

The surprise was melting off of Will's face, replaced with wonder and something else, something Tessa couldn't identify. His hands framed her face, and even though his voice was swept away by the din in the room, she was certain his lips formed her name.

And then the automatons converged on them, one of them seizing Will in a headlock, yanking him away from Tessa. She thought she screamed his name, but she couldn't be sure. She glimpsed Jem struggling toward them, one hand pressed against his bloody side. An automaton grasped him by the hair and threw him to the ground. His cry of pain sent a shiver of horror up Tessa's back.

"Jem!" she cried, hearing Will echo her shout. Cold, metal hands locked around her wrists, dragging them forcefully behind her. She kicked wildly, but her feet hit nothing but artificial skin, doing no damage whatsoever.

She tried to plant her feet, but to no avail. The automaton yanked her practically to the floor, wrestling her away from where Will was fighting to get to Jem's side. Tessa could see flashes of Will's expression, the fear in his eyes as he tried to reach his friend, and her heart constricted. This was her fault. If she hadn't distracted both herself and Will…

Suddenly she was being swung in a tight circle. Before she could make sense of the world whirling past her, she was slammed into a wall; her breath whooshed out of her lungs. A passive-faced automaton stood in front of her, blocking her view of the rest of the battle. All she could hear was the overwhelming mixture of snarls, screams, shouts, and howls. She had lost sight of Will and Jem; the automaton had dragged her out of the thick of the fighting.

The automaton's arm shot out and hit her in the stomach. Her body automatically tried to respond by doubling over, but the monster's hands came down on her shoulders, holding her upright. It swept her feet out from under her with astounding swiftness; Tessa abruptly found herself on the floor, without knowing exactly how she'd gotten there.

Tessa tried to gasp air into her aching lungs, but the automaton didn't give her a chance. Its kick sent her rolling across the floor. Rather than allowing her body to stop, Tessa used the momentum to put distance between herself and her attacker, knocking against legs and even tripping one or two individuals.

Hands reached down and grabbed her by the hair, lifting her agonizingly upward so that the attacker could look into her face.

"Do not attempt to escape," said another automaton in its flat, inflectionless voice.

Tessa felt hatred boil under her skin and wanted to spit in its face, even though it surely would not understand the action of disrespect.

A hand, hard as rock, slapped her across the cheek. Tessa gasped as hot fire spread through the side of her face, mingling with the pain in her scalp as the automaton's other hand continued to pull her hair. Tessa flailed blindly with her hands, hitting at every surface of the creature that she could reach, but without a weapon to break the skin, she was useless. The knife she had been clutching had been lost to her when the first automaton had attacked.

The automaton stepped down on her leg, and she let out a strangled scream as terrible pressure was applied to her burn. Her hands flew to her ankle, wanting to put out the fire of agony, but the clockwork creature released her hair and placed its other foot on her chest, forcing her flat to the ground.

Another automaton materialized out of the raging crowd and took hold of her fingers. Tessa could only watch, dazed and on fire with pain, too confused to understand.

She didn't even register what was happening when the automaton contracted its hands, squeezing, bending. She didn't know until she heard the snap, and felt the agony that came a moment later.

Her shriek was cut off by a hand smacking her mouth. Tessa tasted blood, but it didn't matter to her. All she could concentrate on was the pain in her broken fingers, so sharp and intense that the world started to blur and darken and threaten to vanish.

She watched through the haze as one of the automatons raised a hand to hit her again. Something darted out of the crowd and slammed into it, throwing it sideways and away from her. The other clockwork creature was wrestled away as well by a tall, swift, pale thing—a vampire, Tessa realized distantly. Magnus had even managed to persuade the vampires to join them.

Her foggy brain summoned up a picture of Camille, wearing her pale hair immaculately pinned and her long, elegant black dress, fighting as viciously as the rest of them, and the absurd urge to laugh bubbled up inside of her. Instead of laughing however, she spit out blood, rolling onto her side and trying to breathe deeply through the agony, cradling her hurt hand.

Automatons were everywhere, searching for her. It was only a matter of time before another found her. And then it would be over.

* * *

Will fell to his knees beside Jem, relief rushing through him when he saw his friend already trying to struggle back to his feet.

"I'm fine," Jem puffed, one hand pressed to the bleeding gash in his side. There was cold fire in his silver eyes.

Will put his hand on Jem's elbow and hauled him to his feet. His eyes darted between the automatons moving toward them with quick, purposeful steps. As he watched, Downworlders engaged several of them in battle, dragging them away from Will and Jem, but more took their places. How many clockwork abominations had Mortmain created? Would they ever manage to destroy them all?

There wasn't time to experiment. The automatons were expendable; the Downworlders and Shadowhunters fighting them were not.

"We have to find Mortmain," Will said in Jem's ear, trying to make himself heard over the deafening noise in the room without shouting. "If we kill him, maybe the automatons won't be able to function."

Jem nodded once, his jaw clenched with pain and determination. Suddenly his eyes widened and he looked sharply at Will. "Where's Tessa?"

Will's head snapped up. He could spot no flash of long brown hair or charred gray dress among the snarling creatures around him; she had vanished. He cursed himself for taking his eyes off her. How could he have been so stupid?

"Come on," he muttered, pulling Jem by the arm as he backed away from the advancing automatons. One of them lurched forward, hands flailing, and Will passed his seraph blade cleanly through its chest. The oil stained the weapon and the automaton collapsed awkwardly to the floor. One of its comrades stepped on its arm as it mechanically moved past it, toward the two Shadowhunters.

Will wanted to shout Tessa's name, but he knew it would do no good. She wouldn't be able to hear him. Fear started to seep through his veins. What if Mortmain had her again? What if he was bringing her back to that ruined basement? What if he was putting his knife through her heart at that very moment?

Will longed to throw himself into the battle and fight his way through until he found her. But he could not leave Jem here, injured as he was, to fend for himself.

As if he could read Will's thoughts, Jem growled, "Go, Will. I'll be fine here. You need to find Tessa."

"I won't leave you," Will said, the steel in his voice leaving no room for debate.

Jem lifted a seraph blade with the hand that wasn't pressed to his wound. "Let's make quick work of them, then," he said grimly, and with a speed and grace that shouldn't have been possible with his current condition, he sliced the hand off of a reaching automaton, sending it reeling back.

Will moved with Jem, refusing to be separated from them. The faster they got rid of these clockwork monsters, the faster he could get to Tessa.

He gripped his seraph blade tighter and struck.

* * *

Tessa gasped as the automaton's fingers embedded themselves in her hair again, its other hand clamping around her arm. It dragged her across the floor, paying no mind to the fighting creatures around it. A green-skinned warlock stumbled over her and sprawled on the ground. An automaton brought the sword welded to its hand down on the Downworlder, and Tessa shut her eyes against the horrific sight.

Her hands scratched at the fingers in her hair, but beneath the flimsy, artificial skin was nothing but cold, hard metal, no nerves to feel the pain of her efforts. Panic was blooming inside of her, chasing away the haze of pain and dizziness. Where were Will and Jem? Were they nearby? Were they searching for her? Or had they been killed already?

No. She would not believe that. They were strong; they were trained for this. They knew what to do. They would be fine, even if she didn't come out of this in one piece.

Tessa lifted her eyes; she could see nothing but the constantly moving bodies of Downworlders, Shadowhunters, and automatons, towering over her as she was pulled unceremoniously across the ground. She was terrified that any one of them would be Mortmain, looming over her with a knife. He would not be stupid enough to hesitate this time. The second he saw her, he would kill her, and Cruor would be free. She thought she could feel the occasional rumble beneath her, as if the demon still fought against its supernatural bindings.

The realization that her death would not affect her alone made Tessa's chest constrict. If Mortmain sacrificed her now, Cruor would kill every living being in this building. All of the Shadowhunters, the Downworlders that had come so valiantly to fight, would be slaughtered. Charlotte and Robert, Magnus, Gideon. Jem. Will. Her fingers scrabbled more frantically still on the dead hand that held her, but it did no good.

"Ahem," said a voice over her head, sounding so absurdly polite amidst the violence around them that Tessa for a moment stopped clawing at the metal hands restraining her.

The automaton stopped. Tessa twisted her head and almost cried with relief and joy. Standing in the automaton's path, hands folded calmly over his chest, was Magnus Bane.

"Is that any way to treat a lady?" he protested, gesturing somewhat lazily toward Tessa's form, half sprawled on the ground. "Mortmain really must work on his abominations' manners. I would have hoped that he would raise you better than this." He shook his head ruefully. "I'm afraid I can't let you continue this appalling display."

"Get out of the way," was the clockwork creature's inflectionless reply.

"I don't think so," said Magnus, and suddenly he held a ball of reddish orange flame in his hand, dazzling Tessa's eyes. With astonishing speed and accuracy, he hurled the flame at the automaton. Tessa turned her face away from the shock of heat. Abruptly, the fingers squeezing her arm and pulling her hair vanished. She felt something fine and powdery tumbling down her head, and when she opened her eyes and looked dazedly down at her lap, she discovered that it was ash.

Magnus had incinerated the creature on the spot.

"There, now," said Magnus brightly, offering her a hand and helping her to her feet, trying to conceal the fact that he was winded from the strength of his spell. "Isn't walking with your own two feet more preferable than being dragged like a common dog?"

"Thank you," Tessa whispered with deep, sincere gratitude. Her voice was covered by the screams of the battle, but Magnus nodded once, understanding her meaning.

"I shall be expecting repayment, of course," he said. "But for now, let's concentrate on this little war, shall we?"

* * *

Will was looking everywhere at once. He had to focus on the monsters pressing in on him from all sides, on Jem, fighting bravely beside him, while trying to search for Tessa and Mortmain. His fear was growing with each passing second, his imagination painting horrific, wild paintings for his mind: pictures of Tessa with Mortmain's knife in her heart, bleeding out her life. If they had come this far only to have her killed in the end, he would not be able to bear it.

His eyes glanced up and then did a double take. A long staircase stretched to a second floor, ringed by a banister, and leaning over that banister was Mortmain himself. The foot of the stairs was clogged with automatons blocking the way, keeping werewolves, vampires, Shadowhunters, warlocks, and creatures Will couldn't even comprehend at a glance from reaching their master. Automatons flanked Mortmain as well, prepared to take down any stragglers that snuck past the primary defense.

Mortmain's eyes were raking the crowd, searching, no doubt, for Tessa. Will felt dizzying relief hit him as he realized that Mortmain didn't have her, at least not yet. But he was looking, and he would have her soon.

"Jem!" Will bellowed, and Jem whipped around, his eyes instantly following Will's to where Mortmain stood. No other words passed between them. They spun as one and quickly dispatched the automatons that stood between them and the stairs. Will forced himself not to sprint; he would leave Jem behind if he did. Jem lurched forward as fast as he could, his breath coming in harsh, labored rasps.

The wall of automatons was thick. Will couldn't imagine fighting his way past them. As he watched, another Shadowhunter ran at the cluster with a yell, only to be picked up and thrown viciously back. He skidded along the ground and disappeared beneath the feet of a dozen more creatures. Will's heart twisted in his chest.

"Will," Jem wheezed, his voice barely discernible. "You can…make it over. I'll stay."

"No," Will said fiercely, even before Jem had finished speaking.

"_Will_," Jem said, more urgently. "Go. You kill Mortmain, you end it all. Don't you understand that?"

Will hesitated another moment, searching his _parabatai's _eyes. But there was nothing in them but grim determination.

If Jem died now, Will would die with him. It would be his fault. And yet he was right; if Mortmain continued living, this battle would only grow longer and bloodier. Who knew when it would end? Never, perhaps, until the last living creature had died.

Will turned to face the crowd of automatons, bracing himself in a crouch. He took one deep breath and then shot forward, shooting past the other creatures. He reached the edge of the wall of clockwork creatures and launched himself over them, his feet pushing against heads to propel himself farther. He landed painfully on the stairs, leaping instantly to his feet and thundering up the steps before a metal hand could reach out and grasp his ankle.

Will reached the top of the stairs and found the rest of Mortmain's defenses already waiting for him, various sharp-edged weapons pointed at him, with Mortmain cowering behind them.

"Why don't you fight me yourself, Mortmain?" Will said, raising his voice to be heard. It was only slightly quieter here, the battle still raging below them. "Or do you plan on hiding behind these creatures for the rest of your miserable life, like the coward you are?"

"I'm no coward," said Mortmain coldly. "And I'm no fool, either. I know I'm not a fighter, Shadowhunter. I'm not one of you." His lip curled as if the thought repelled him. "If it were just the two of us, you would not hesitate to cut out my heart. I cannot afford to give you the opportunity. I do apologize if you were looking forward to a dramatic fight to the death, with just the two of us." He nodded at Will. "Kill him."

The automatons started forward as one, a strange whirring coming from their ranks. Will tensed, his eyes sweeping the line, trying to calculate how to best take them out. He attacked first, slicing and stabbing, maneuvering his way slowly but surely toward Mortmain—or, at least, where he had last seen Mortmain to be.

He did not see Mortmain slipping around the side of his mass of automatons. He did not see the gleaming dagger in his enemy's hands, or the wicked smile curving his lips.

He did not see any of it, until it was too late.

* * *

Tessa stayed close behind Magnus, her hands brushing his back, flinching away from the claws and teeth and weapons that slashed at the air so close to her. Magnus was trying to seem as if the battle was not a big deal, but his walk was a little too fast, his muscles a little too tense. He sent balls of fire at any automaton they passed, though they were not as strong as the first had been; he did not have the strength to make ashes of them all.

There was a huge commotion at the base of one of the grand staircases. She glimpsed a flash of silver hair and her eyes widened. Jem? He was still fighting? She took one step toward him, but Magnus hissed over his shoulder, "Stay near me!"

Movement caught her eye and she automatically looked up. Her involuntary gasp caused Magnus to glance up as well. Will was flying up the stairs, seraph blade glowing, his eyes fixed on the man who stood waiting for him.

Tessa watched as Mortmain's mouth moved, saying words she desperately wished she could hear. Her body was so tense it hurt as she watched the automatons attack Will. He moved with such confidence and fluidity, so sure that he could cut down every last one of his enemies. Tessa's heart filled with hope. He could do this. He was the best Shadowhunter she knew. And when he killed Mortmain, maybe this would all end.

And then she saw Mortmain slinking around the back of Will, the knife in his hand. She started running without knowing where she was going, or what she could do to stop it. Hands grabbed her arms, holding her back, and she was vaguely aware of Magnus growling in her ear. She couldn't hear the words he spoke. She could only stare in utter horror as Mortmain took the dagger and edged in behind Will.

Her scream was swallowed by the noise of the battle, just like every other scream that might have been uttered on Will's behalf, as the knife hit its target.

* * *

_Sorry I haven't updated in a while! I'm having a bad case of writer's block lately. And I'm also sorry for this horrendous cliffhanger... And for this really long battle scene...I just really like writing battle scenes. I'm sorry for a lot of things lately, huh? Anyway, I'll update as fast as I can! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing! _


	22. Chapter 22

_Ugh, I'm so sorry it took me so long to update! I've been busy lately, with procrastination and all…So I wrote a longer chapter to make up for it, and I didn't end it on a horrific cliffhanger for once! Hooray! _

_By the way, so excited to have reached 100 reviews! You guys are the best!_

Tessa watched it happen as if the world had slowed down. Everything else disappeared; it was just her, standing in the middle of a war, watching Mortmain's knife hit Will's back.

Will's blue eyes flew wide with shock, not pain, and for a moment he remained standing, wobbling uncertainly as if his body hadn't quite discovered what had happened. Then he fell to one knee, the knife falling to the ground with a high, sharp sound that Tessa swore she could hear even from where she stood.

And Mortmain. He looked down at Will with an expression of triumph and disgust, feeling no remorse for the deed he had just done. As if he could feel the heat of Tessa's hate trained on him, his eyes swung around and fixed on her, and his mouth curled into a smile.

A part of Tessa wanted to crumple to the ground and stay there, curled up against the weight of the world forever, and give up. But the rest of her wouldn't allow that. Her body was pumping with rage and hate, pain and anguish, and letting herself wither up there on the floor was not an option.

Ice crept through Tessa's veins, freezing over the wildness that gripped her, and suddenly she knew exactly what she had to do.

With a strength Tessa hadn't known she possessed, she ripped out of Magnus's hold on her arms, ignoring him as he shouted after her. She ran through the crowd, heedless of the pain in her burned ankle or her broken fingers, weaving around the blades and claws that reached toward her. As she dodged and ran and felt the cold fire fanning through her, she wondered if this was what it was like to be a Shadowhunter. To have nothing but icy certainty coursing through her, her body acting as if it was born to do this, forgetting about the dangers to herself and thinking only of others.

In this instance, only of Will.

In her mind, she watched him fall again.

A voice inside of her wailed, and she locked it away. She would have time to give in to that voice later. For now, she could only act.

She glimpsed Jem, still slashing viciously at his enemies, and wondered distantly if he had seen what had happened, if he knew there was nothing he could do, and could only continue to fight.

Tessa squeezed the fingers of her healthy hand tightly over the ring in her palm—the ring she had slipped off of Magnus's finger just before breaking away from him. The thick wall of automatons blocking the stairs loomed in front of her, seemingly unbreakable. But Will had done it. And Tessa would, too.

Tessa stopped, making sure she was not within arm's reach of the automatons, shut her eyes, and concentrated more fiercely than she ever had in her life.

Within seconds, the transformation took place. She felt her skin stretching and changing, fire burning through her bones as her whole body twisted to take the shape she forced it to. She gasped at the pain but stayed upright, her eyes closed, waiting until the last of the flames left her system and she felt herself standing tall and new and different.

She opened her eyes, knowing they would be green-yellow and slitted like a cat's. She imagined Magnus's astonished face if he saw her, or rather, saw himself; she had never changed into Magnus before, and she could feel his powers thrumming through her veins, in her hands, which no longer ached with broken bones.

She lifted her hands as she had seen Magnus do, summoning up the fire in her body and pushing it out with all her might.

Blue and orange fire shot out of her fingers with force she had not been expecting; she stumbled backward, almost losing her footing and crashing into another warlock, who had turned to gape at her.

The fire crashed into the cluster of automatons. The ones that took the hit directly crumbled into ash and twisted metal scraps; the ones around it caught fire or had various parts of them blown off. The wall had gone from invincible to flimsy in the space of a few seconds.

But now Tessa understood why Magnus didn't incinerate every automaton he saw. The hit had taken almost all of her energy. She felt her legs threatening to collapse underneath her, her body growing heavy and weak as if she had just run for miles. She had to double over, her hands braced on her knees, dragging breaths into her screaming lungs.

She didn't have time to regain her strength. Tessa forced herself upright and started running again, dodging past the Shadowhunters and Downworlders that had fallen on the remains of the clockwork fortification of the stairs, others pouring up the staircase with her and attacking the automatons that waited at the top.

Tessa didn't have the strength to hold Magnus's form, and felt the transition as she turned back into herself. She almost fell from the shock of it, but forced herself to keep going by picturing Will, Mortmain leaning over him with that mocking smile on his face.

Tessa reached the top of the stairs and was almost shoved back down by a grappling werewolf and automaton. She flung herself to the side as they rolled downward, the werewolf snarling furiously as it ripped chunks off of its opponent. Tessa turned away, her stomach rolling sickeningly, and stumbled toward the dark shape she could see on the ground.

"Will," she whispered, her voice faint with exhaustion. "Please."

* * *

The world was a haze, a distant universe that Will hovered above, feeling bemused. He could not remember when he'd left the battle; was it over? Had they won? Why was there no one else with him?

Everything was dark, fuzzy. He thought he could hear a roaring sound nearby. The river? It brought back the memory of standing on the bridge with Tessa, when he had been so close to telling her that he loved her. It brought a small smile to his lips. He longed to be back there now.

But where was Tessa? And Jem? Charlotte and Henry? Had they vanished? Surely they were not still fighting somewhere?

Will became distantly aware of the sensation of pain somewhere in his shoulder blade. It started as a mere discomfort, and intensified to become like fire. He swore and tried to reach around to touch the wound to find out what was hurting him so deeply, but his arm wouldn't obey.

Then, a memory surfaced. Fighting. Swinging his seraph blade at any creature that came too close. Knowing that he would win. And then an explosion of pain, shock, and confusion. A glimpse of a man's face, lined with cruelty and victory. Mortmain?

A knife clattering to the ground. A scream in the distance—his name?

And then this world, this place of black nothingness where he floated with pain and confusion. A place where he was separated from Jem, Tessa, everyone that mattered.

Will shut his eyes. He knew of only one thing—he had to return.

* * *

Tessa wished she could run to him, but her body refused to move at more than a shuffle. All of her old injuries were back again—her burned leg struggled to hold her weight, and her hand burst with agony every time her fingers twitched or brushed against her dress. She would get to him eventually, of course. The icy sureness inside of her told her that much.

Her foot knocked against something and she looked down, her heart twisting when she saw that it was the blood-covered knife that Mortmain had used to wound Will. She knelt down slowly, painfully, to pick it up, her hands trembling.

"Oh, what a pleasant surprise," said a voice behind her, sounding delighted. "I was hoping you would come, Tessa. I would have lured Herondale up here long before now, had I known it would bring you up so quickly."

Mortmain. Tessa's hands instinctively curled into fists, causing her to suck a sharp breath in through her teeth at the pain in her broken fingers. She turned slowly, for she could move no other way, to face him.

His eyes were still filled with the same madness that had inhabited them in the basement, though less frenzied now. She knew he was thinking of the furious demon below them, waiting for the sacrifice it had been promised. If he failed to do what he had promised Cruor, would he be punished? Or was that outside the demon's power, in its current imprisoned state?

She hoped Mortmain failed. She hoped he suffered for it for eternity. This man had hurt Will, so badly that he might not recover. If Mortmain caused her to lose him, she would kill him. That was a promise.

"Shame, that," said Mortmain, nodding carelessly at Will's crumpled form. "He would have been a good asset to me, I think. Maybe he still can be." He flashed Tessa a grin that sent chills down her spine.

"Don't talk about him," she said, her voice still hoarse from smoke inhalation and exhaustion. "Don't look at him. Don't you dare touch him. He is not yours, Mortmain."

"And you think that he's yours?" His voice was mocking now. "You think he cares for you? He only came as a favor to his sickly friend, who, by now, is most likely dead as well."

Tessa forced herself not to dwell on his words. She would not believe them. He was a liar.

"Has he not already rejected you in the past?" Mortmain sneered. Tessa looked at him, trying to hide her shock. How did he know? Had he spied? Or was he taking a wild stab in the dark? "Have you not suffered pain from all of the people below us? You owe the Shadowhunters nothing. They have scorned you, called you a filthy Downworlder, used you for their own selfish devices. They did not come here for you—they came for me. They couldn't care less what happens to you, my dear Tessa.

"So why fight?" he went on, taking a step nearer. Tessa forced herself to hold her ground. "Why defend them? Why _care? _They have caused you so much pain, so much heartache. Why not return the favor?"

"By giving myself up to die?" she said flatly.

"By giving yourself up to kill them," he corrected in a low, persuasive voice. "To wipe the world of the blight of Shadowhunters."

Tessa looked at him uncertainly and he came nearer still. "It would be so simple," he whispered. "Cruor would do it quickly. Wouldn't the Downworlders be better off without the Nephilim? The Downworlders, Tessa—your people. They suffer because of the demon hunters. Won't you set them free? Won't you set yourself free?"

"I'm not a Downworlder," said Tessa, but there was a hint of doubt in her voice.

"Then what are you?" His lip curled. "You're no Shadowhunter. You're no human. What are you, Theresa Gray?"

By this point he was so close his lips were only a few inches away from her ear, his voice a whisper. Tessa didn't miss the movement of his hand as it slithered toward his belt, grasping for the knife that wasn't there. His fingers grabbed empty air, and confusion passed over his face for a moment.

"I'm not anything," she whispered back. "And I'm proud of it." Then she brought up the dagger, the very same one that Mortmain had stabbed into Will, and drove it into his stomach.

Mortmain's eyes widened. He stumbled away from her; Tessa's hands fell limply from the hilt of the knife. His hands clutched at it as blood welled around the wound. His eyes rose to Tessa's, and the wild terror in his gaze made her shudder with revulsion.

"Fool." His voice was high-pitched, and a trickle of blood ran from the corner of his mouth. He swayed, struggling to remain on his feet. "They used you," he sputtered. "All of them have."

"Not all of them," Tessa said, her voice sounding distant and cold to her own ears. Her eyes lingered on Will's motionless form. "Some of them are the only family I have left."

"Family," Mortmain laughed, staggering against the railing of the balcony. "What use is there for family in this world?"

"I pity you, Mortmain," Tessa murmured. "You are blind. All you see is power. You would have destroyed everything, even yourself in the end, to get it."

"You pity me?" he sneered, his eyes fluttering. He slid down the railing until he was mostly sprawled on the floor, one arm still slung over the side of it to keep himself half upright. "You are a fool, Tessa. A filthy, worthless—" His voice died out midsentence and his eyes rolled back into his head as he slumped the rest of the way to the ground. The hand clutching the hilt of the knife went slack, though the madness seemed to remain in his face even when the animation had left it.

Tessa would have stood staring at Mortmain for a long time, her mind slowly realizing that she had just been responsible for his death, if two quite pressing things had not happened.

Firstly, there was a massive, earth-shaking roar from beneath her feet. The ground shuddered, sending her lurching to the ground, along with almost everyone else in the mansion. Tessa numbly registered that it was Cruor; had it felt the death of the human that was meant to set it free? What did that mean for the demon?

The other pressing thing that occurred was a low, pained groan from just behind her. She turned her head to look at Will, painful, impossible hope blossoming too quickly in her chest to stop it from spreading. She crawled frantically toward him, turning his head gently to the side so that she could see his face. His brow was furrowed, lines of pain etched into his face, and his open mouth drew in quick, shallow breaths.

_He's alive. _Those two words played themselves over and over again in Tessa's mind, and her joy chased away the horror that was threatening to overcome her, the horror at the idea that she had just taken another life so coldly, without thought.

"Will," Tessa gasped, her tears dropping onto his face. She bent over and pressed her forehead to his cheek, trying to stop her breathing from hitching pathetically. One of her hands buried itself in his hair, which was encrusted with soot and blood, and the other wrapped protectively around his head, as if she could keep out all the evil and pain of the world.

There was another groan from deep in his chest. His eyelid fluttered, and then opened a slit.

Will managed to focus on her for only a moment. "Tessa," he mumbled. Then his eye slipped closed again as he passed out, though his breathing seemed to even out slightly.

"Tessa!"

Tessa lifted her head, causing a series of aches and pains to sing out their protests throughout her body. Her joy and relief only increased when she saw Jem standing at the top of the stairs. He took in the sight of her, leaning over Will, and his silver eyes stretched wide.

"Will?" he said, fear just starting to seep into his voice.

"He's all right," Tessa said quickly, sitting upright but keeping one hand pressed against Will's face. "He's been wounded, but I think he'll—"

She was interrupted by Magnus, who had just come thundering up the stairs behind Jem. Energy seemed to crackle in the air around him, and his face was thunderous.

His yellow-green eyes darted around the bodies littering the area before landing on Mortmain. His expression hardened, and he muttered a curse in a language Tessa didn't know.

"Magnus?" Jem followed Magnus's gaze and his eyes widened even further.

"I would think about evacuating this house if I were all of you," said Magnus, his eyes seeming to pop sparks. "Without its Summoner and Master, that demon isn't going to be able to remain in this dimension. The warlock that summoned it is already dead, I've been told, and now that Mortmain, its 'master,' is gone…it's going to be dragged back to hell, or whatever filthy hole it crawled out of."

"And that's a bad thing because…?" Jem prompted.

"That monster isn't going to leave without bringing the whole house down with it," spat Magnus. "There are warlocks trying to send it down peacefully, but that's a Greater Demon, and it's putting up quite a fight. If we stay here, we most likely won't escape getting crushed by the roof."

They all looked upward in unison. Another rumble shook the house to its foundation, and Tessa tightened her hold on Will.

"Come on, then!" shouted Jem, limping determinedly forward. He had to gently pull Tessa away from Will, whose hands seemed reluctant to release him, before he stooped and grabbed his _parabatai _beneath the arms. Tessa watched Jem's face contort with pain as the effort pulled at his already wounded side.

"You can't carry him yourself," Tessa protested. She whirled on Magnus. "Don't you have a spell that can get him out of here?"

"Actually," said Magnus with a touch of dryness, "I'm using most of my efforts to keep the house from crushing us all." Tessa realized the crackling energy around him was magic; she could see a vein throbbing in his temple as he struggled to keep up whatever barrier he had managed to form.

Tessa looked around frantically. She could see no other Shadowhunters or even Downworlders near them; there were only the bodies of the dead. She avoided looking at Mortmain. That was one event she hoped to erase from her mind when this was all over.

Taking a deep breath, Tessa bent and took up Will's legs. Jem looked at her incredulously. "You can't carry him!"

"Neither can you," she retorted, "but we at least have to try."

Jem's face hardened and he clenched his jaw, giving her a determined nod. Together they hoisted Will a few inches off the ground, both of them wincing and gasping from the pain it caused their exhausted, injured bodies, and started hauling him laboriously toward the staircase.

Magnus followed behind them, muttering something under his breath as beads of sweat slid down his face. They moved down the stairs at an agonizingly slow pace, stumbling every now and then, both from fatigue and the occasional shudder of the house as Cruor fought viciously against the forces trying to pull it back to its own dimension.

"Can't you go any faster?" snapped Magnus, his voice taut with the strain of the magic he was preforming.

Tessa didn't have the breath to form an answer. Jem only grunted, his silver hair matted to his forehead from sweat.

Debris was beginning to crumble from the ceiling, raining on them in small, virtually harmless fragments that Tessa knew would eventually grow bigger. Her smoke-battered lungs wheezed as they struggled to draw in enough air to satisfy them. Another shattering, demonic screech erupted from below, and Tessa flinched, almost dropping Will's feet.

"Go," Magnus growled, giving her a push that almost sent her falling the rest of the day down the stairs.

It was all Tessa could do to keep her hold on Will's ankles and keep walking forward. Her shoulders screamed with the pain of holding on, along with almost every other part of her body. Every glance she shot at Jem showed that he was in much worse condition than she was. The dark bloodstain on the side of his clothing was testament to his pain, and his face was ashen. But the determination hadn't left his face, and Tessa knew he would die before he would leave his best friend.

They had reached the bottom of the staircase when Tessa glanced over her shoulder, only to find that Magnus was no longer with them. Had he given them up for a lost cause and fled? She would not blame him if he had.

The door was so close, and yet so far. The ground was covered in bodies, both clockwork and flesh alike, and it became even more difficult to maneuver. Tessa's arms shook so violently it was a wonder they didn't come right out of their sockets. Jem was half doubled over, and it looked as if his grip on Will would leave bruises. Dust filled the air from the tremors coming from below, and the overpowering urge to cough came over Tessa.

_So close, _she thought desperately, her mind almost disconnected from the rest of her by this point. _Just a little farther. Keep going, Tessa Gray. Don't let them die._

She heard an explosion to her left, and turned her head to see fragments of the floor flying high into the air. Something had just blasted a hole in the ground—it wasn't hard to guess who might have been behind it.

_Go back, Cruor, _she thought fiercely. _Go back to wherever you came from. You don't belong here. _

Several of the columns around the edges of the room were crumbling, collapsing into piles on the floor and bringing pieces of the ceiling down with them. They were halfway to the door, but going slower than ever. Tessa's eyes found Will's face and stayed there, even as she tripped and stumbled over the bodies on the floor. If his face was the last thing she would see, perhaps she could come to terms with death.

There was a sound like deafening thunder directly overhead as the rest of the roof crumbled.

Jem shouted out a warning and Tessa dropped to her knees, throwing herself over Will to protect him as he had once done for her. She felt pressure on her back as Jem did the same for her, and she tried to turn her head to scream at him to move, but there was no time.

The thunder continued, and Tessa braced herself, waiting for the crushing weight, the pain.

It didn't come. She dared to lift her head, and saw with disbelief that they were completely surrounded in rubble, yet it had not crushed them. There was a bubble-like, invisible dome over their heads that seemed to be keeping the debris above them at bay.

Tessa looked around, dazed, to see that Magnus had reappeared. He stood with his knees braced, his hands thrown out, his entire face twitching with the extreme effort of what he was doing.

"Go!" he bellowed.

Tessa scrambled to her feet, hauling Jem up with her. They took up their positions on either side of Will, and with renewed strength, lifted him up. The shield that Magnus had put up around them followed their progress, pushing the rubble out of their way. The door was so close, but Magnus was fading quickly.

Tessa's heartbeat was all she could hear. Not Jem's shouts, or Magnus's cries of effort, or the thunder of Cruor as it finally left this world and the destruction it had left in its wake. It was as if everything else had vanished, leaving her alone in the world, with just one goal: to survive.

The door was abruptly there, right in front of them. Jem lunged forward, dragging Will and Tessa behind him, and suddenly they were out, with cold air rushing into Tessa's lungs. She staggered to the ground and rolled the rest of the way down the front steps, the rest of her energy spent.

She had time to see other Shadowhunters converging on Jem, whose face was a grimace of pain, and Will, who was still unconscious; Magnus stumbling out of the doorway, his face pale and covered in a sheen of sweat; the house as it crumbled in on itself, burying everything inside, and then she fainted, the world turning to inky black.

* * *

_Thank you so much for reading and reviewing, everyone! _


	23. Chapter 23

_Here it is, the last chapter! I really hope you all had as much fun reading this as I did writing it! Drum roll please..._

* * *

The first thing Tessa was aware of was pain.

It stole over her like a shadow and chased away unconsciousness. It started as a slow, deep burn in concentrated places, her hand and her ankle, and then spread outward, intensifying until it became unbearable.

Her eyes jerked open of their own accord, and she drew in a wild breath. She could feel herself moving, rocking back and forth. Her eyes went in and out of focus, and she glimpsed the small, square ceiling of a carriage above her.

Instinctual panic seized her, and her body tried to tense up, tried to bolt her into a sitting position so that she could take stock of her surroundings. The pain flooding through her wouldn't allow for that, however.

She felt a hand pressing gently down on her shoulder, fingers brushing hair off her forehead. "Shhh," a voice murmured. "You're all right now, Tessa. You're all right."

The sound of the voice was familiar, though Tessa's foggy thoughts couldn't place a face or a name to it. She relaxed against the carriage seat, the pain already starting to recede as her mind slipped away again.

"Will?" she managed to whisper, her voice so soft she wasn't sure it could be heard.

There was a seemingly endless beat of silence, so long that Tessa almost lost consciousness before she got her answer.

"He's alive," the voice said quietly.

Tessa thought she heard herself sigh, a sound of blessed relief, and then the world disappeared again.

* * *

"Miss Gray? Can you hear me? I have your breakfast for you."

The voice came distantly, fuzzy and hardly distinguishable from the silence that had been Tessa's world for who knew how long. Her eyelids fluttered and then opened, that small movement sending a sharp stab of pain through her skull. Instantly, the pain returned, trickling into her body to fill every inch of it, and she silently cursed whoever had dragged her out of the painless place she'd been before.

Her vision was blurry, and she had to blink several times in order to focus on the woman standing over her. The moment she recognized her, Tessa's eyes filled with tears.

"Sophie," she whispered.

Sophie's scarred face broke into a smile. "There," she said, sounding rather smug. "I told them you'd wake up eventually, when you were good and ready."

It was beyond wonderful to see the maid again. Tessa tried to remember the last time they had spoken…it had been too long. Too long since she'd seen any of the members of the Institute. It seemed that she had been gone for years. All she had known in the time she'd been away had been Mortmain, the damp cell he'd kept her in, the hulking demon, the automatons, fire, pain, fear. Being separated from those things now was surreal.

Tessa's tears spilled over, sliding down her cheeks and disappearing into her hair. "Sophie," she said again, her voice breaking, and threw her arms around the unsuspecting maid, who was bent over so she could peer into Tessa's face.

Sophie made a noise of surprise, but after a moment her arms came around to hesitantly encircle Tessa, awkward and unsure of herself, but it was all the comfort Tessa needed from her.

"You're safe now, miss," Sophie said gently, and Tessa felt the other girl's hand caress her hair, a touch so light it was as if a butterfly had brushed against her.

Sophie disentangled herself from Tessa, stepping back and giving her a scrutinizing look. "You still look a mess," she remarked. "But it's nothing you won't heal from."

"How long have I been unconscious?" Tessa asked hoarsely, gingerly trying to shift into a position that wouldn't bother her numerous injuries. Her attempt wasn't fruitful, and she winced, settling awkwardly back on the pillows of her bed.

"It's been about three days since the lot of you got back from the raid on Mortmain's mansion," said Sophie seriously. "We had to keep you here in your own room, seeing as how there wasn't room enough in the infirmary."

Tessa tore her eyes away from Sophie and realized that she was indeed in her own room. The sight of the familiar space brought more tears to her eyes, but she managed to blink these away.

Slowly, the fragmented memories of what had happened that night began to piece themselves together again. She could see bodies littering the floor, the knife sticking out of Mortmain's chest that she herself had driven into him, blood on her hands and dress, the house shaking as it began to collapse, her arms screaming with the effort of carrying Will…

_Will. _Tessa shot upright again, gasping as flares of pain responded to her abrupt movement.

"Now, you just calm down, miss," said Sophie, hands firmly pressing her shoulders so that she would lie back again. "You've been through a lot. You need rest."

"Where's Will?" The words spilled out of Tessa's mouth before she could think to stop them.

Sophie withdrew her hands and her pretty eyes sparkled with amusement. "Ah," she said. "I see."

Tessa felt her cheeks heating with a blush. "He was dying," she said, dropping her eyes to her bandaged hands in her lap. "Mortmain…he came up behind him…and he had a knife…"

"Never you mind about Master Herondale," said Sophie, and Tessa stared at her incredulously. "You just worry about getting yourself back up to tip-top condition, miss."

"Sophie!" Tessa exclaimed. "Is he all right? Where is he?"

Sophie sighed in exasperation. "I don't see why you trouble yourself worrying about that man," she muttered, though the words didn't seem intended for Tessa's ears. She decided not to comment on them. "He's fine," Sophie added, resigned. "Well, maybe not 'fine,' but he's certainly well enough to make my life miserable."

Tessa felt as if a great weight had just been lifted off her chest. She tried to hide her relief, but Sophie gave her a knowing look and said, "He's been asking after you too, miss. Demanding, more like. I no sooner walk into the room before he's badgering me with questions about you. He keeps trying to come and see you, but I've seen to it that the infirmary is well guarded. He won't be getting out of there any time soon." She smiled, perhaps envisioning Will's discomfort.

"And everyone else?" Tessa asked, feeling suddenly guilty that she had put Will before the others. "Jem? Charlotte? Henry?"

"They all made it back in one piece…more or less," said Sophie. "We had to call in the Silent Brothers for some rather serious healing work, but they'll live."

Tessa allowed herself to bask in the knowledge that she was at the Institute again, safe, alive, and that everyone else had made it back as well. She closed her eyes and let out a long, shaky breath, feeling as if she were exhaling all of the fear and despair that had been building up inside her for so long.

"There were casualties, though," said Sophie sadly. "Many Shadowhunters were lost, and twice as many Downworlders."

Tessa's eyes opened and turned to Sophie. "You said everyone was all right," she said, trying not to sound accusing.

"Everyone that resides in this Institute is fine," said Sophie, busying herself with a food tray on Tessa's bedside table. Tessa didn't miss the sorrow on the other girl's face. "Not everyone could be saved."

"And Mortmain?" said Tessa, swallowing the sudden bitter obstruction in her throat. "What of him?"

"I think you should know better than any of us," Sophie replied. "Were you not the one that did away with him, miss?"

Tessa flinched, a cold hand closing its fingers around her heart. She had hated Mortmain; never had she met such a foul man, so hungry for power and revenge that he had been willing to put millions of lives in danger. She knew he would have died in the end, no matter the outcome of that battle; even if she had not driven that knife into his chest, he would have been killed, if not by another Downworlder of Shadowhunter, then by Cruor when it was unleashed. But it still did not erase the realization and the pain that she had been responsible for the death of another human being, no matter how terrible a being he had been.

Sophie's eyes softened and she touched Tessa lightly on the shoulder. "You did the right thing, Tessa," she said solemnly, and the sound of her name chased away some of the blackness invading Tessa's heart. "If you had not done what you did, more lives might have been lost. You saved them all." She reached out and took Tessa's hand, squeezing it once before releasing it.

Tessa nodded, though she still felt doubtful.

"His clockwork abominations ceased to work after he was dead," Sophie went on. "At least, that's what I've been told. His hideout collapsed, and the demon was sent back to its own dimension. Mortmain is well and truly gone."

There was a long beat of silence as they both took this in.

"Eat up," said Sophie, her tone abruptly brisk. She nodded at the tray. "I'll be back to redress your leg in about an hour. Try to get some more rest." She gave Tessa one last smile before turning and withdrawing from the room.

Tessa waited precisely twenty seconds, counting each tick of the clock, before throwing the blankets off her legs and sliding out of bed.

At first she stumbled as her burned ankle struggled to hold her weight. But after walking a few circles about her room, she discovered that if she barely touched the toes of her injured leg to the ground and depended heavily on her healthy foot, she could manage the journey from her room to the infirmary easily.

Tessa stuck her head out her bedroom door. It was almost bizarre, being able to open doors whenever she liked; she had grown used to being under lock and key at all times. She glanced both ways down the corridor, making sure that Sophie was nowhere in sight, before slipping out and limping her way toward her destination.

She did not realize until she was over halfway to the infirmary that she was wearing nothing but a nightgown, and nothing on her feet at all. She stopped in the middle of the hall and stared down at herself in dismay. It had taken her long enough to get this far; she wasn't sure she could manage the trip back to her room to dress, and then another walk back to the infirmary. Besides, the longer she took, the larger chance there was that she would run into Sophie.

Praying that there wouldn't be too many other patients in the infirmary, Tessa stuck her chin in the air and limped bravely on.

It took her ages to get to the infirmary, and by the time she arrived she was gritting her teeth against the agony in her leg and seemingly every other place in her body. But with every step she took, her anticipation grew. This was more important than resting.

Tessa's hand reached for the knob on the infirmary door, but a light hand touching her shoulder stopped her. She spun around with a gasp, prepared to defend herself, only to find Jem standing there, looking a little sheepish.

"Forgive me," he said, sounding strangely formal. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"Oh," Tessa breathed, putting a hand to her heart. Her eyes stuck to his face. There was a long scar near his hairline, but otherwise his skin seemed unmarked. "Jem!"

"I'm very glad to see you're well," he said, offering her a small smile that filled her with impatience.

"Jem," she said again, grinning. "I'm so happy to see you."

Pink colored his cheeks, and he dropped his eyes, seeming embarrassed. "Ah. Well, I'm happy to see you as—"

Tessa reached out and, much to the astonishment of both of them, she pressed the palm of her hand against his cheek. His skin was warm. His silver eyes were wide as he looked at her.

"You're hardly hurt at all," she said wonderingly.

"_Iratze _healing runes," he replied. His hand came up to hold hers to his face, and Tessa felt her stomach flip. He shut his eyes for a moment and sighed before dropping his hand and stepping away from her, letting her hand fall from his face.

"You're here to see Will, aren't you?" he said, and Tessa was startled by the regret in his voice.

"Y-yes," she answered, blushing. "I…I have to thank him. For saving my life. I should thank you, too," she said gently. "You saved me, Jem."

"Don't thank me," he said, shaking his head. "It was Will who realized what was happening. He was the one that suspected that that...thing that impersonated you wasn't really you. I refused to believe him. Will had to go as far as running her through with a blade before we finally realized the truth." There was pain in his eyes when he looked at her now. "I'm sorry, Tessa."

"Don't be," Tessa said, her hands itching to reach out and take his hands, but something held her back. "You came. That's all that matters."

Jem's eyes roved over her face, and Tessa saw the longing in them. "I've admired you for quite a long time, Tessa," he said. He held up his hand when Tessa tried to stutter out a response. "But I know now that I…that we can never happen."

Tessa felt a splinter of pain crack her heart. "Jem," she said softly, not entirely sure what she was going to say, but he went on before she could utter another word.

"When we were heading back from Mortmain's in the carriage," he said, "you woke up, only for a few seconds. The only thing you could ask about was Will. I'd suspected before, but that was when I understood. And hearing him go on and on about you, driving himself mad with worry, for the past few days…"

Tessa tried to ignore the soaring feeling that his words inspired in her. _Will was going on and on about her. _"Jem?" she said, and this time she didn't resist the urge to touch his hand. He didn't draw away; he stared down at her fingers intently. "You are the kindest man I have ever known," she said quietly. "You hardly ever think of yourself. You always put Will first, or me, or anyone else in the Institute. You're pure and good, more so than any other human being in the world." She smiled faintly at him. "You are beautiful, James Carstairs." She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. His eyes were full of sadness as she drew away, but he smiled at her, a small, pained smile.

Tessa felt a sharp feeling of anguish as she turned away from him, her hand reaching for the doorknob again. She thought back to the night when all this had begun, when Will had told her that Jem loved her. She couldn't bear the idea that she was hurting him now. Telling her what he just had, that he believed she belonged with someone else, must have been one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do.

She didn't deserve Jem. She never would.

Tessa pushed the door to the infirmary open and stood there in the threshold for a moment, taking in the bright room that was full of more beds than usual, most of them occupied. Most of the occupants seemed to be Shadowhnters, but Tessa was astonished to recognize a few Downworlders beneath the sheets as well, though they were the ones who were unconscious and ashen, clearly badly wounded.

A beautifully familiar voice floated to her from the other end of the room. Tessa's eyes flew back and forth until she found the source of it.

"—don't bloody well need to lie down. You see? I'm standing right now. I don't think I should have to stay in the infirmary like some sort of disease-ridden invalid."

"Will, please be reasonable," Gideon's voice answered, sounding quite exasperated. "You do know that you took a knife to the back, don't you? And Sophie specifically told me not to let you leave."

"Jem was injured," said Will stubbornly. His dark hair was ruffled around his head, and his brilliant blue eyes sparkled with life and energy and irritation. Tessa could only stand there staring at him as a warm feeling welled up inside of her, filling her from head to toe. "I don't see him stuck in here."

"Jem requested a private room," said Gideon impatiently. "You, however, are much too pigheaded to be trusted in a private room—"

"Pigheaded? I resent that sentiment!" Will said indignantly.

"Oh, you do, do you—" Gideon's eyes shifted past Will and landed on Tessa; his sentence broke off and he stared at her in astonishment. His surprise may have been a result of her mere presence, or by the fact that she was hardly dressed at all. Tessa was too busy staring at Will to remember her rather indecent state.

"Run out of arguments, have you?" Will glanced briefly over his shoulder, almost as a reflex, and then did a double take. His eyes widened as they met Tessa's.

"Well?" The voice to her right made Tessa jump. She looked over to see that Magnus was lying in the bed nearest her, eyeing her with a dry expression. His face was pale and drawn, but he still had a glint in his catlike eyes. "Are you going to stand there staring at him, or are you going to run into his waiting arms?"

Tessa felt her face breaking into a smile, and she started limping across the room as fast as her leg would allow her to go. Will started toward her, walking quickly at first and then breaking into a run. He reached her before she had gone more than few steps, and, heedless of their sizable audience, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her tight against him.

"Tessa," he whispered in her ear, and, without releasing her, he headed straight for the door, lifting her slightly so that her feet barely skimmed the ground. Tessa peeked over his shoulder into the room to see that everyone was watching them with varying expressions of alarm, disapproval, and amusement. Gideon stared after them with a helpless look, and Magnus winked at her.

Will shouldered past the door to the infirmary and set Tessa on the ground. She had enough time to ensure that the corridor was deserted—Jem had disappeared—before Will's lips came down on hers.

Tessa responded immediately, her arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him closer to her. Will kissed her passionately, pressing her against the wall as his hand came up to frame her face. Fire passed through Tessa, burning away the pain, the knowledge that there was a crowd of people on the other side of the door, the world in its entirety until it was just her and Will.

"Don't ever do that again," he moaned, burying his face briefly in her neck.

"Do what?" she said breathlessly, one hand fisting itself in the back of his shirt.

"Leave." He raised his head and cupped her chin, looking at her fiercely. "You have to make me a promise, right now," he said.

Tessa leaned toward him until their mouths barely had any space between them at all. "Anything," she murmured, and felt him shiver as her lips brushed his.

"Stay with me."

"What kind of a silly promise is that?" Tessa said, grinning.

Will's expression turned playful. "Say it, or I shall be forced to throw myself from the top of the Institute out of the sheer agony of my grief."

"Well, we mustn't have that," she said, raising her eyebrows. Her voice softened. "I promise I'll stay with you, Will."

His smile was radiant. He bent his head to whisper once more in her ear. "I love you, Tessa Gray."

She smiled to herself, reveling in the words she had dreamed of hearing for such a long time. "Of course you do," she responded loftily.

He pulled back and gave her a look. "You can do better than that."

She looked at him innocently. "I've no idea what you're talking about."

The way he looked at her then, his blue eyes soft and almost reverent, the joy that shone from within them like light through a window, was too much for her to withstand. She had rarely seen that look in Will, that happiness that he seemed to lack, and the knowledge that _she _was the cause of it, that he was looking at _her _like that, meant more to her than she could say.

"Oh, all right. I suppose I love you too," she sighed.

"It's about time you admitted it," Will said, and stooped to kiss her again, sealing the promise, the words, and the rest of forever for them both.

* * *

_And there you have it! I'm a sucker for happy endings. Well, happy for Tessa and Will...but don't worry, Jem finds another girl in the near future and finds happiness as well. At least, in my imagination he does. _

_Thank you all so much for reading! You gave me such encouragement throughout the story! You guys are awesome! _


End file.
